


Days of the Year That Wasn't

by Gypsylady



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Awesome Gwen, BAMF Ianto, F/M, Gen, Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones Friendship, M/M, Technically not an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsylady/pseuds/Gypsylady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Torchwood while Jack was with the Doctor at the end of the world in The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords (2007)? The Master says he sent them to Nepal but doesn't elaborate much. Here is elaborate.</p><p>Originally published on LiveJournal and beta/Brit picked by the indomitable Geordie_Star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Thirty

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer, don't own 'em, just borrowing for a bit of harmless fun, no money being made here, not even much in the way of a reputation being made here.

Harold Saxon's chances at election were looking better every day. Even an old skeptic like Owen Harper was starting to like the sound of Saxon's platform. Gwen, her well-trained police instincts tempered by Torchwood and the necessary suspension of disbelief, was not yet convinced, but she acknowledged the likely inevitability of Saxon becoming Prime Minister. Neither Toshiko nor Ianto said much, but they watched the news and read the news websites a bit more avidly.

The team had been struggling along without their leader, facing down various weevil outbreaks and a few minor incursions by mostly harmless aliens. But when the phone rang and it was the commander of UNIT for the region asking to speak to whoever was in charge in Jack's absence, Ianto handed the phone to Gwen without hesitation. He explained to her later that Owen's leadership style was to bully people into doing whatever he wanted them to do, not necessarily what needed to be done. Toshiko flat out refused to lead, and Ianto knew he would never be followed even if he were inclined to try. He further explained that she was organized, she communicated well, and everyone had grown to respect her. There was no question in Ianto's mind who was the true second in command after the missing Jack.

UNIT, seeing how the political wind in Great Britain was blowing, wanted to arrange a tour for Mr. Saxon of all the facilities either under the organization's control or affiliated with it. Torchwood Three fell into the second category for the time being, the commander told Gwen. She bridled at his tone of voice but kept her automatic acerbic response in check. She agreed to a time for the visit, negotiating more to keep her influence felt than because the first time suggested was truly inconvenient.

After exchanging standard polite farewells she hung up the phone gently. Making no effort to hide her words or her emotions, she counted to ten in loud Welsh, her voice growing louder with each number. At "deg," she lifted the receiver again, and slammed it into the cradle, the sound echoing across the Hub. Ianto and Toshiko exchanged glances, Owen growled wordlessly, and the curious pterodactyl made a brief appearance before disappearing into her nest high above the human portion of the Hub. Gwen swung to face the others.

"They want to fucking INSPECT this place!" she said angrily. "He says it's a courtesy visit so Saxon can get a better feel for what we do but you and I all know what the fuck this is, don't we? Jack's gone and UNIT is trying to move in and take over." She paused, grabbed for breath, then went on. "Let's clean this place up right now. We have until Thursday. I want them to come in and see just how well we're carrying on with Jack missing. I want them to see Torchwood as a well organized, well trained, fully operational organization with absolutely NO FUCKING NEED for UNIT's help of any sort. In fact, we might make UNIT ask US for help!"

In the moment of pure silence that followed her speech, Gwen briefly worried that she was sounding like an insane harridan. Her worries were for nothing, she realized, when the other three stood and applauded her.

They worked as if driven by the fires of Hell itself. By Wednesday afternoon, every inch of the Hub gleamed. Jack's desk was clean and neat, the first time ever. Gwen then refused to use Jack's desk, instead locking off the office and setting herself up at a desk Ianto had managed to locate in storage. It was similar to her usual work station, but larger and it looked managerial. She and Ianto tried it in several locations, finally placing it towards the back of the Hub, in a semi-concealed alcove where it would look like she was in a private cubicle or office, but which gave her complete access to all points within the Hub. Labels were updated throughout the archives section, and certain cabinets were moved so far back that even Toshiko, whose suspicions regarding UNIT Gwen would like explained someday, agreed they were probably safe from prying eyes. Owen revealed that he did actually own neat business casual attire, and he agreed to wear it for one day only. Even Tosh, who had initially said she wanted to be out of the Hub during the inspection, agreed to show up dressed for lab work, although she said that if anyone from UNIT tried to talk to her it might not be a pretty afternoon. Ianto hurriedly agreed to run interference for her should the need arise, and Gwen concluded that the reason for the problem wasn't as important as the fact that a solution had been found so quickly.

Thursday dawned grey and rainy. This was, after all, Cardiff. By unspoken agreement, all four of the Torchwood Three team showed up at the Hub extra early. Gwen had expected to be the first to arrive, but was only mildly surprised to smell coffee as soon as she walked in. What truly surprised her was finding Owen already holding a cup of coffee as he did another walk-through of the autopsy bay to be sure nothing was out of place. She noticed that under his lab coat he was wearing a clean, pressed shirt and clean, well tailored trousers. But no tie. Tosh walked in a minute behind Gwen, dressed in loose fitting grey slacks and a black shirt under a white lab coat. Until ten the four made sure the Hub looked as efficient and professional as possible. Owen commented, without sarcasm in his voice, that this was the best he'd ever seen the Hub look. Tosh agreed, adding that she'd been working here longer than Owen and she had never seen the facility look so "top drawer." Ianto gave it his highest praise, saying, "If this had been Torchwood London, the worst Hartman could have said was that we needed to confine Myfanwy better." (Hearing her name spoken, the pterodactyl swooped down, but upon realizing there was no fun to be had, she returned to what was commonly called the rafters, the high perch from which she usually observed goings-on in the Hub below her.)

At eleven fifty, Ianto checked his hair and tie, straightened his shoulders, and headed into the tourist information center to greet the visitors, who were due to arrive at noon. And less than one minute after noon, he called down to Gwen to let her know that the dignitaries had arrived, then he locked the public door to the center, flipped the sign in the window to "closed" and opened the hidden door. He lead the four UNIT officers, the smiling politician, and his distantly smiling wife into the Hub.

Gwen greeted them at the foot of the stairs. In a move guaranteed to put the UNIT commander's nose out of joint, she ignored him and turned her attention first to Saxon. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she said, reaching past the highest ranking UNIT officer to grasp Saxon's hand. "I hope we can look forward to working well together in the future. And, is this Mrs. Saxon? It's a pleasure, madam."

Lucy Saxon looked momentarily confused, then she shook Gwen's hand warmly. "It's so rare for people to notice me," she said in tones that would have sounded confiding had not everyone in the room been able to hear her. "I fade to nothing next to Harry's brilliance."

Gwen clucked and assured Lucy Saxon that nothing could be further from the truth, echoed by a surprisingly pleasant Harold Saxon. Gwen had not expected a politician like Saxon to be so friendly, and she momentarily warmed to him. She returned his smile and then turned to the four UNIT officers. "Gwen Cooper, acting head of Torchwood Three in the absence of Captain Harkness. The Captain has taken a temporary leave to pursue some personal goals, but we've been managing fine without him. He's trained us very well."

The senior officer, an older man named Bellingham, scowled. "I'd like to know some details about Harkness' disappearance," he said gruffly.

Before Gwen could deliver the reply she had rehearsed, Saxon interrupted. "I'm sure the Captain's personal goals are just that, personal, and it does seem Miss Cooper is keeping things here well in hand." He indicated the clean and quiet Hub with a sweep of his hand. "Everything seems to be in place and functioning as it should."

Gwen breathed a little easier, smiling at the politician. "Thank you for understanding, Mr. Saxon," she said. "It's within the personnel parameters of Torchwood that our people have the option to take short term leaves of this sort. It's a demanding job we do, and sometimes stepping away for a time serves to strengthen us."

Saxon nodded soberly. "I fully concur. So, Miss Cooper, how about a tour?"

Only Tosh noticed how Gwen twitched slightly whenever Saxon called her "Miss Cooper." She thought that after this visit was over they might come up with a proper title for Gwen. Even PC Cooper sounded less awkward than Saxon's insistence on old fashioned titles. But Lucy Saxon tapped her husband on the shoulder and whispered something to him, and when he turned back to Gwen it was obvious that someone else had also recognized the issue.

"Oh, I AM sorry," Saxon said. "I should have asked for your title. I'm afraid I'm a little old school sometimes. Is there a form of address you would prefer, Miss...er...?" he held out his hand in query.

Ianto spoke up. "Her correct title is Vice Commander, Torchwood Three, but since that is a mouthful we generally call her Gwen or Ms. Cooper."

"Gwen is fine," she assured Saxon, as she smoothly picked up from Ianto. "Vice Commander is a bit long to say, and as we're usually responding to emergencies, the shorter the name we need to call out the better."

Saxon nodded, beaming at his wife. "You're so good to me, Lucy, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Gwen's smile never faltered but she noticed how peculiar the exchange between the two of them was. She was starting to think there was more to Saxon than met the eye and she wasn't sure she liked it. She glanced at Ianto, who stood behind everyone and even though his face remained placid she could see concern in his eyes. Unable to do anything about it right now, she shelved the feeling to discuss with the others later.

The tour began with a brief walk through the main Hub area. They stopped at Tosh's work station and Gwen saw that the other woman was nervous. Before anyone could say anything, however, Saxon had put one hand on Tosh's shoulder, the other on Gwen's. In a humorously conspiratorial tone, he asked, "Now, ladies, I've heard that your Captain Harkness is a handsome devil. Which one of you is he charming the most?"

Gwen and Tosh exchanged embarrassed glances. "Neither of us," Gwen said. "I've a fiance and .. and ... " She looked over at Tosh helplessly.

"Jack is certainly a handsome man but handsome men are not normally my type," Tosh replied convincingly, so seamlessly that Gwen believed her. She knew Tosh was secretly pining for Owen, but the only time she'd ever seen Tosh in any kind of relationship, it had been with Mary. An alien, yes, but a female alien.

Saxon had obviously accepted both women at their word. "I think that's admirable," he said. "Workplace relationships can be so ... messy, can't they?" He looked around the room for confirmation, pausing almost imperceptibly at both Owen's and Ianto's faces. Gwen saw no change in either man's face but something had apparently registered with Saxon because he nodded slightly, released Tosh's and her shoulders, and straightened. "Shall we continue the tour?" he asked.

They had started toward the autopsy bay when the rift alarm sounded. The four UNIT officers circled Harold and Lucy Saxon, all speaking in voices so soft as to be inaudible outside their circle. Gwen ignored them, turning to Tosh for details.

"Rift activity in ... in a cemetery north of here. Nothing large, apparently, just some small debris. One life form ... no, that faded out."

"Owen," Gwen snapped. "Take Tosh and go investigate. Call if you need us."

Owen leaped into action, tapping Tosh on the shoulder. Before either Saxon or the UNIT contingent could say a word, the two were out the door and running towards the SUV.

"While we wait, would you gentleman and Mrs. Saxon like some coffee? Tea? I believe we have some pastries in the kitchen area, don't we, Ianto?" Gwen said, pointing them toward the conference room.

"Oh, goodness, we don't want to inconvenience you or make your jobs more difficult," Saxon said. "We'll be on our way shortly although I think I would love a cup of coffee. It's chilly out there. Is it always this cold here?"

"Well, this IS Cardiff," one of the UNIT men said somewhat derisively.

"It is indeed," Ianto said, failing to hide his sarcastic tone. "I'll be right back with the coffee."

They engaged in awkward chit chat about good spots in Cardiff for Saxon to visit until Ianto returned with eight cups carefully balanced on a silver tray. He held the tray to Lucy and then Harold Saxon, then to the four UNIT officers, and then to Gwen before taking the last cup for himself and laying the tray against the wall.

Saxon, with his steaming cup, turned and saluted the locked and empty office above them. "To Captain Harkness, wherever he may be, may his personal goals be realized sooner rather than later."

Confused but not sure about what, Gwen raised her cup as well, followed by the UNIT members. She noticed that Ianto held back from the toast but thought better than to mention it.

After his first sip, Saxon's eyes widened. "This is excellent coffee, young man," he said to Ianto. "And prepared exactly to my taste. Yours, Lucy, is it good?" The woman nodded enthusiastically. Saxon grinned. "I think I can see at least one reason you're valued around here, Mr. Jones."

Ianto inclined his head slightly.

A few more sips of coffee and Saxon announced that it was time for him to leave. To Gwen he said, "Gwen...you did say I could call you that, right? I trust you and your team will continue to cooperate with UNIT as the need arises? Yes? Oh, good. I'm glad to know that nothing will cause friction between the two organizations. Times change, you know, and I believe both will be needed more rather than less. Now, then, come along, Lucy, General, we've given these people enough trouble today." As he left, he passed Ianto, and he paused to give the young man a careful look. "I should like to remember your coffee, Ianto Jones," he said. "I could use you someday. And not just for the coffee." He grinned quickly, winking as if to imply that it had just been a joke. But as he continued on his way out, both Gwen and Ianto watched him with chills traveling up their spines.

Once the door closed behind the group, Gwen held up her hand. She went to get a piece of equipment that had been on her desk, but Ianto held it up from behind his back. Together they swept the Hub, until they were confident that no listening devices had been left behind.

"There's something going on with that man," Gwen said. "Something I do not like."

"He knows where Jack is," Ianto said. When Gwen looked at him puzzled, he shrugged. "The way he made them change the subject, the way he spoke of him ... the way he looked at his office. The way he looked at each of us. Into each of us. He knows and it's not a good thing that he knows."

Before they could discuss it any further, the comm chimed and Tosh was reporting in on what they had found at the cemetery.


	2. Day Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How they ended up going to Nepal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, disclaimer, blah, blah, etc.

Day Forty

A week after Saxon and the UNIT officers had invaded (Gwen refused to refer to it as a visit) the Hub, Gwen had not yet returned to her original desk. She felt obliged to explain to the others that this was not a matter of power within the team, but was instead a precaution against surprise re-visits from the same people. It was Owen who finally assured her that no one minded.

"We need you there, anyway," he said. "It's true, we do need a leader and you're the one doing the job. And the leader needs to look like a leader, all the time. So don't feel like you need to move back to that desk anytime soon. I think you look rather fetching in that alcove, anyway."

Tosh giggled at Owen, while Gwen and Ianto exchanged eye rolls. But Gwen stayed at the desk in the alcove.

Ten days after Saxon's tour of the Hub, Gwen's telephone rang. When she answered, she frowned towards her teammates and mouthed, "General Bellingham." She listened to him for several minutes, nodding once, rolling her eyes a few times, making a gagging motion, using her thumb and forefinger to mimic a gun with which she would like to shoot the phone, then her foot, and finally her head. When she was able to get a word in edgewise, it was, "General, I'm sure there will be no objection but I would like to hear this from the Minister himself." There followed more facial expressions, gestures, and a few choice words mouthed to the other three, some of which brought giggles to both Tosh and Owen while Ianto just rolled his eyes. She finally managed to say, "Well, I'm sure we can work something out, General, just as soon as the Minister approves the plan and, as you know, Torchwood answers directly to Her Majesty so I expect to also hear something from the Palace before we firmly commit to this." She nodded once, then hung up.

"Count to ten first," Tosh suggested.

"In Welsh, if need be," Owen echoed.

"I'll count to a million in bloody Ukrainian and it still wouldn't make that bloke any less unpleasant," Gwen fumed. "We're being asked to be part of a task force in conjunction with UNIT - read: Under the command of UNIT - to investigate some activity in Asia that seems to be similar to the Cardiff Rift. They want our input, our 'unique perspective,' he said. And from the tone of his voice, he meant he was going to show us how the big boys do things so we'll be properly awed and grateful when they make their power grab once Saxon is Prime Minister."

"And you asked for the Queen to get in touch?" Owen asked. "I do hope you've got an idea what to say when she does call."

"It won't be the Queen herself," Ianto told him in a matter-of-fact voice. "She has a staff person just for dealing with Torchwood. It used to be a man named Timothy Clayton, but whenever Jack hears from the Palace lately it's been a girl. Name of Sarah something-or-other. I suppose that's who'll call."

"I wonder what happened to Timothy Clayton," Owen mused.

"UNIT made him a better offer." Ianto glanced at Gwen. "Sorry. He asked."

The Rift alarm was almost anti-climactic after that. Gwen, needing the exercise and air to clear her head, grabbed Tosh and the SUV and went after the anomaly. It proved to be nothing worse than some rather ugly, foul smelling garbage from somewhere on the other side of the Rift. Still, being out in the fresh (or at least not filtered) air and sunshine (her euphemism for "not raining just at the moment") helped her, and when she returned to the Hub, she was feeling less frustrated about the UNIT issue.

"It can't hurt," she told Tosh on the drive back to the Hub, "for us to learn what UNIT does. We do have access to some amazing alien tech, but they have all the latest human tech, something we never get to see. So it would be a good idea for us to work with them. Maybe send you and Ianto to Asia with them. Would you like to go?" Gwen remembered Tosh's reticence about dealing with UNIT and had a sudden feeling of doubt.

"Of course, if you ask me to I'll go," Tosh said easily. "I have my own reasons to distrust UNIT but being part of Torchwood does provide me with some protection against their ... excesses." Gwen remained silent but Tosh offered nothing further on the subject.

Gwen's mobile phone chirped just as they reached the underground parking structure outside the Hub. It was Ianto. "If you'll be back soon, I have a phone call that I'll hold for you," he said. "It's the Minister of Defense. Mr. Saxon, the presumptive Prime Minister. He says he's happy to wait a few minutes for you if you're close by."

"On our way in now," Gwen said, flipping the phone shut. To Tosh she said, "Saxon calling. How much should I bet that he asks for our cooperation with UNIT?"

Tosh shrugged and the two women entered the Hub at a leisurely pace, in unspoken agreement that rushing would send the wrong message all around.

Saxon was smiling; Gwen could tell it just from his voice. "Ah, Gwen, I'm so pleased to learn that you go into the field along with your people. I understand Captain Harkness leads that way; he's obviously chosen well for a second in command. Now, then, I have been informed that General Bellingham of UNIT called this morning with a request for Torchwood Three's assistance, yes?"

"He did and I believe it would serve both organizations well if I send my tech manager and perhaps our archivist along on this mission of theirs. Will that satisfy all concerned?" Gwen held back the trump card she held, that she needed Royal authorization for Torchwood to participate.

"Oh, Gwen, I'm sure that's a generous offer but I've been in conference with Her Majesty today and I believe you'll be hearing from her Torchwood staffer shortly. I believe the Palace would appreciate it if your full team deployed in support of UNIT's activities in Asia."

"My FULL TEAM?" Gwen shouted, unable to stop herself until it was too late. She settled down into her seat, and modified her tone. "I'm sorry, Minister, that certainly took me by surprise. I can't possibly send the entire team. Who would be here to keep an eye on the Cardiff Rift?"

"Please, Gwen, call me Harold," he said genially. "I understand your concern but I assure you this is only for a few days and I can arrange for the Army to at least hold things down to a dull roar until your return."

"But, Minister..." Gwen choked out before he interrupted her.

"Please, please, you can call me Harold. I don't stand on ceremony. I'll leave it to your best judgment, of course, but I think once you've heard from the Palace you'll see my point. And now I've taken up enough of your time, dear lady. I'll see you for the briefing, I hope? Good, then, have a pleasant afternoon." And he hung up.

Gwen replaced the phone gently, turned to it, and growled, "Dickhead!"

The following morning, bright and early, the telephone in the Hub rang. Over the intercom, Ianto informed Gwen that it was Sarah Jeransky, the Queen's Torchwood liaison. Gwen took the call and endeavored to remain calm, but when Sarah echoed Saxon's demand that the entire team go to Asia, she felt her control slipping. She managed to avoid profanity but she realized she was sounding tense, so she tried to apologize. Sarah made a sympathetic comment, and indicated that written instructions would be arriving within the day and perhaps that might make the situation clearer.

It was a quiet day, Rift activity consisting only of a brief blip on the screen that closed before anything made it through. Just as the team was preparing to leave for the evening, a courier appeared at the tourist information office. Ianto signed for delivery and closed and locked the office before heading into the Hub. He handed the packet that was delivered to Gwen and stood by, waiting for news.

The packet consisted of a letter. It complimented Gwen on her leadership in Jack's absence and reiterated the request that the entire Torchwood Three team accompany UNIT's team to Asia. It was signed in a familiar hand. Gwen wondered if the Queen had signed it herself or if she had a staffer to do that for her. She decided she didn't want to know.

"I guess this means we're going to India, or wherever we're going to end up," she said, sighing.

Three days later found Gwen and Tosh seated at a long table among military personnel and several sharply dressed businessmen and women. There were also politicians scattered in and among them, speaking primarily to the military officers. The two from Torchwood had carefully dressed in formal business attire adapted for the fast action required by their jobs. For all that they looked the part of women who had a grand stake in the meeting, they found themselves ignored, pointedly so in some cases.

The discussion had moved on from what and where to how. The what was a rift-like area on the east slope of Kutang in Nepal. The mountain, the eighth highest in the world, was close to the border with the People's Republic of China, and the diplomats were scurrying about to make sure no toes were stepped on in the upcoming expedition. The where was, obviously, Nepal, on the Chinese border, halfway up a very tall, very cold mountain. The how was the current subject under discussion.

The two from Torchwood listened quietly to the general discussion, noting to one another that it was turning into a worse mess of cross-conversations than anything their team had ever experienced. After ten minutes of listening to three arguments about loading and logistics of moving equipment and people across to Asia, Gwen whispered to Tosh, "This is the kind of stuff Rhys does every day. He's always talking to me about this stuff. What the hell is their problem? It's a simple matter of scheduling."

"Say something," Tosh suggested.

After a moment's stage fright, Gwen decided nothing was going to get done if she didn't so she cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me? If I might make a suggestion?"

There wasn't even a pause in the hubbub; if anything, the noise level seemed to rise.

"Excuse me!" she said louder. There was still no slowing in the ongoing arguments and conversations. She stood and cried, "Oi, you lot, I can fix this if you'll let me!" The conversation faltered slightly, then continued.

Gwen was getting angry. And an angry Gwen, Tosh knew, was a determined Gwen. Gwen might have been shorter than most of the others in the room, but she knew how to counter that problem. Standing up on a chair, she threw her purse on the table with a loud thud and yelled, "Oi! You wankers can either listen to what I have to say or continue to polish your own arses; but if you want this done right, shut the fuck up, and pay attention!"

Tosh had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from shouting, "Bravo!" and applauding.

The room was suddenly silent. After a stunned second, there was the sound of one pair of hands clapping. Harold Saxon, in his role as Minister for Defense, stood up from his seat and applauded. "Oh, yes, yes, Gwen Cooper, Captain Harkness DID choose his second wisely. Please, tell us what Torchwood has to offer."

Gwen caught her breath and stepped down off the chair. Every eye in the room was on her. She took a deep breath. "This is a much simpler matter than you're all making it out to be," she began. "This is just a matter of moving things and people. All you have to do is assign each item a cargo slot and each person a seat on a plane. Really, if you stop arguing and do it right the first time it's quite simple."

Several of the civilian contractors and politicians started to speak in derogatory tones but, to Gwen's surprise, the UNIT official, General Bellingham to whom she had taken such a dislike, interrupted them. "I believe Vice Commander Cooper has the right of it," he said, loudly and menacingly enough to silence anyone else. "Please, Vice Commander, continue. It would appear you have some expertise in this field."

Hours later, when the dust had settled and the naysayers were silenced, Gwen and Tosh stared at twelve pages of plans. It really was simple, but there was a lot of stuff to be moved. An entire Army unit would be deployed in support of the mission. Twenty three UNIT specialists were about to be sent into Kathmandu by special Air Force transport. A full contingent of UNIT security people would be following along a day later. The day after that, the entire Torchwood Three team would be on a private jet en route to Nepal along with a few UNIT and industry scientists. The team had just under a week to brief the Special Forces crew on what to expect should there be Rift activity and how to contain things until Torchwood Three's team returned to Cardiff. And they had to pack. Warmly.

Rhys was torn between worry for Gwen and pride that she had used all of his anecdotes to win herself such respect among the others at the meeting. He was unaware of the location of her upcoming trip, although she had hinted that it was somewhere in southern Europe. She'd hoped that he'd imagine her in warm, sunny Spain and not worry too much. She packed while he was making her dinner, not wanting him to notice how many sweaters and thick socks she was putting in the small duffel bag.

The morning they were to leave was damp and dreary. Looking up into the sky as they approached the airport, Owen muttered, "That's Cardiff for you."

Ianto, along despite Gwen's efforts to leave at least one person behind, looked upwards and replied, "I imagine on the side of that mountain we'll see plenty of sunshine, Owen."

"It's going to be painfully cold on the side of that mountain," Tosh said. "I hope they thought to include insulated eye gear. The winds can be vicious."

"You've BEEN up Kutang?" Gwen asked, sounding doubtful.

"Not Kutang," Tosh replied. "But I've been to Nepal and met some of the climbers. My parents took me there as tourists when I was little. I've some memories of Pokhara, the city we're probably starting out from, but I'm sure it's changed since I was last there. We'll at least be able to view Annapurna, which is a famous peak."

"But still not so high as Kutang."

Everyone turned to stare at Ianto, who had spoken the last sentence. He stared back, looking innocent. "What? I know everything. I handle the tourist office."

Owen rolled his eyes as Tosh giggled and Gwen laughed out loud.

From Kathmandu, they were transferred to a commercial carrier for the rest of the trip to Pokhara. It was Owen who realized the name of the airline. "Yeti Airlines? They're serious?"

"Relax," Gwen said. "By the time we were planning this leg of the trip we were forced by budget considerations. And even so, this wasn't as cheap as Cosmic Air would have been."

"And we do have to wonder just what powers the planes flown by Cosmic Air," Ianto remarked dryly.

The flight was a bit bumpy, only to be expected over such a mountainous region, but the exhausted team slept the full half hour they were airborne. They stumbled almost zombie-like into their hotel rooms, only to be awakened a few hours later by pounding on their doors. The Sherpas were ready to leave and the sun had risen a half hour ago. Bleary eyed but starting to get excited, the four from Torchwood joined the large group in the hall that had been hired from the local tourism board for this purpose.

There was a television in the corner of the room, and after a short briefing about the conditions they ought to expect on ascent to the base camp, which they were assured was more than two-thirds of the way to the where the energy readings were coming from, the television was turned on and the now familiar face of Harold Saxon, newly the Prime Minister, smiled out at them.

"How I envy you," he said. "Going off into the unknown, seeing new sights, discovering new things. And here I remain, at a desk in London, in a stodgy old office building, doing the same old things over and over again. Go forth, my friends, and see the world with new eyes. A new world is dawning for you, and how I wish I could be there with you to watch you discover it!"

Gwen turned to the rest of her team. "I'm starting to dislike that man," she whispered, aware that there were others around her who might be listening in. "New world? What the hell is he talking about?"

Owen pulled his heavily laden backpack onto his shoulders. "We'll find out soon enough, I'm afraid," he said. And they followed the rest of the climbers out into the street, piled into trucks, and prepared for their ascent into they knew not what.


	3. Day Forty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus we arrive in Nepal, where the devious machinations of the Master are at last revealed.
> 
> Warning for major character death. Apparently, Russell T Davies and I both liked to kill the same characters first. The difference is, I have a built in reset point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ongoing boring disclaimer still applies.

Day Forty-One

The Torchwood team shared a truck with an interesting mix of people including an American adventurer brought in because he had climbed the mountain several times and was accustomed to leading expeditions of inexperienced climbers. Although, he did admit some of the climbers he would have to lead this time were far less experienced than any he had ever had with him on this or any other mountain. Two UNIT security officers were with them, as was a scientist with an interest in extra-terrestrial genetics who promptly involved Owen in a lengthy and technical conversation that everyone else ignored. Tosh discovered that one of the two Sherpas along with their group, a young man named Lobsang, was planning to go to England at some point to study engineering and soon the two were deeply in conversation about things that baffled both Gwen and Ianto.

The American adventurer, Sidney Taylor, zeroed in on the two remaining Torchwood members to discuss the mountain itself with. It turned out that the mountain was known by two names, both Kutang and Manaslu. He referred to it by the latter name. The weather tended toward the treacherous, he warned them, but after a time the climbers would get used to it and the views more than make up for the difficult climbs. He said that he planned to demand that the weakest climbers be left at the base camp no matter how badly the "brass" might claim that their expertise was needed. The pointed way in which is said this last part, as he looked carefully towards Gwen, left no doubt who he thought would be one of the weaker climbers.

Gwen pursed her lips and said, "Well, I know that Snowdon isn't any Himalayan peak, but I did the Snowdon Horseshoe from Bwlch y Moch to the summit of Snowdon in wintertime so I may have the stamina if not the skills for this trek."

Taylor's smile, while condescending, was accompanied by a nod acknowledging that Gwen might not be the lightweight he feared she would be. "That is a pretty rough climb for Britain," he admitted. "I assume then that you have a rough idea of the equipment we'll be using?" She nodded and he turned his eye briefly to Tosh and Ianto hurriedly changed the subject, asking for information about the surrounding population.

They arrived in a small but picturesque town and found that there was still another day of driving ahead of them. There was insufficient accommodation in the town for a group as large as this task force, so they found themselves pitching tents to spend the night. Owen had nothing good to say about the process, although Tosh did point out that at least he didn't smell grass. Ianto snorted at that and then went off to see about finding some food. The four of them eventually followed him to where a large tent had been converted into a mess hall and they sat down with bowls of surprisingly good soup and hard-as-rocks bread. Ianto disappeared back towards the food line for a while and when he returned he had a thermos and four mugs.

"It's not up to my usual standards, I'm afraid," he apologized as he poured coffee into the four mugs. "I had to start with pre-ground commercial stuff, but I did what I could with it. The UNIT general is already threatening to commandeer me for his own team's coffee in the morning but I told him he'd have to discuss it with the formidable Vice Commander Torchwood Three, Gwen Cooper. I think I frightened him a little."

"You did NOT!" Gwen protested but she was smiling broadly.

"I did indeed," he told her as Owen and Tosh started to laugh and cheer for Gwen. "You are getting quite a reputation amongst these people, Gwen, and I think you ought to start enjoying it. Because when Jack gets back..." He saw the doubtful look on Owen's face and repeated, "WHEN Jack gets back, he's going to take back the limelight."

"He's right," Owen agreed, looking a bit surprised. "And if you solidify your reputation now as a tough lady not to be fucked with, it can only do both you and Torchwood good no matter what the outcome of Jack's little disappearing act might be."

Tosh laughed quietly. "Owen Harper knows something about women in the workplace?"

"Hey, I know all about fighting for respect in the workplace. I've watched it. I've even been known to speak up from time to time." Owen looked truly offended. "I'm a prat but I'm not unaware of what goes on around me."

"And you care about the glass ceiling because....?" Gwen prompted, although her tone was more curious than challenging.

Owen scowled at her. "I've seen women being kicked to the side to let men rise above their abilities, and I've not been able to do anything about it. So let me do something about it this time, will you?"

Gwen started to shrug, then realized Owen had let slip more about himself in that one statement than he ever had to her, even when they'd had their affair earlier in the year. She nodded solemnly and said, "Thanks, Owen. I'll see what I can do about being a tough bitch. But right now, I think I'm more a sleepy bitch and it's starting to get dark. Did anyone remember where our tent is?"

Ianto held up a pocket sized GPS unit. Owen groaned in mock-disgust, but he was grinning. "Ianto, mate, I've decided you're not human. You're some kind of advanced, telepathic, alien species, aren't you?"

The other man inclined his head slightly. "That is a very interesting hypothesis, Dr. Harper," he murmured. "And yet you will no doubt take advantage of my so-called alien abilities."

"And that's the ONLY way I'll take advantage of you, Tea-Boy!" Owen snarled, still smiling slightly. "I think you can dispense with the 'keep off the Ianto' signs."

Gwen and Tosh exchanged glances, realized they were both about to explode into giggles, and Gwen took off at top speed so that the sudden rush of gut-busting laughter would be outside the tent and not spoil her newly won arse-kicking reputation.

It turned colder during the night and the team awoke to the sound of wind whistling past the tent. When he peeked outside, Owen saw a dusting of snow on the ground and he pulled his head back inside and zipped the tent flap back up. "Are they really going to make us go out in THAT?" he asked.

Ianto rolled over and started crawling out of his sleeping bag and reaching for his neatly folded clothing. "I think in this part of the world that is referred to as a balmy day."

Gwen rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned hugely. "They're not going to let a little snow stop us, not with all the money they've sunk into this expedition."

They were pulling on multiple layers of clothing and preparing to face the weather when a cry came up from the direction of the mess tent. They tumbled out of their tent and followed the crowd and the voices.

Someone, probably a UNIT tech, had managed to hook up a small television to pick up a satellite feed. Unable to see, the people in the back of the crowd strained to hear what had happened. Finally, Tosh was able to figure it out.

"Saxon says he's been contacted by aliens and they want him to introduce them publicly a day from now," she repeated. "And he's doing the humble servant of the people routine." Gwen shot Tosh a worried look. "I'm quoting the UNIT bloke over there," Tosh said, pointing. "Word for word."

The announcement was over, and the television was taken down. The tech then started to call out individual names. Certain group leaders were being called to talk to the Prime Minister, Gwen among them. The rest of her team grabbed coffee and pastries from the makeshift buffet table that had been set up and waited for her near the entry to the tent. She accepted a cup of coffee from a UNIT uniformed man as she strode towards the electronics area.

Two UNIT officers and a Canadian scientist were queued up with her. General Bellingham was on the satellite phone already, and by standing very still Gwen was able to make out some of his side of the conversation. It seemed as though Bellingham wanted to delay the expedition in light of the current developments, something with which Gwen heartily agreed. But the general was making no headway with Saxon. Eventually, the general said good bye and handed the phone to the next UNIT officer. He, in his turn, mostly listened to orders, and then handed the phone past the other two ahead of her to Gwen.

"He insists on talking to you," he said, almost apologetically.

"Good morning, Prime Minister," she said, trying to sound professional.

"Ah, Gwen, it's a pleasure to hear your lovely voice!" he chirped. "I just wanted to wish you godspeed now, since I'm likely to be terribly busy shortly. I trust your team is up to the climb? Oh, I'm sure they are. I've seen them close up; a healthy lot, you Torchwood types. Especially that young fellow. Quite the build on him, yes? I trust he's wearing something a bit more appropriate to the climate than those fetching suits, though? I bet the ladies are all over that boy. But that's neither here nor there. Enjoy the climb, Gwen, you and the rest of Captain Harkness' impressive team. I'm sure I'll speak to you again. Now be an angel and put Dr. Larimer on, won't you? Thanks, Gwen."

A chill had run up Gwen's spine, and she uttered not a single sound as she handed the handset to the scientist. She turned slowly and mechanically walked back to where the rest of the team waited. She reached for another cup of coffee, as hers had gone cold while she was listening to Harold Saxon's rather odd patter. She took two swallows before turning to face the other three.

"Something is very, very wrong," she said softly. "There is something between that man and Jack. I don't know where Jack is, I don't know what Jack's doing, but that man is somehow connected. And this rift like thing up here is part of it, too. It might be a ruse to get Torchwood and UNIT out of the way."

"What do you want to do about it?" Tosh asked. Gwen looked at her slightly surprised. The other woman, normally quiet and somewhat reserved, had sounded harsh, almost eager to fight something. It made Gwen feel more confident.

"We can't do anything right now," she said. "We're stuck here. But we can keep our eyes and ears open, pay attention to everything. We can't be sure who here we can trust other than one another. So we stick together."

They shared the truck back with the same people as they had the day before. The young Sherpa, Lobsang, repacked the tent for them, as the team had done what he considered a shoddy job of it. Then he engaged Tosh in conversation about satellite technology, and when Gwen heard the word "Archangel," she realized it was going to go far out of her knowledge base so she tuned it out. The geneticist and Owen were debating the merits of cloning, and she tuned them out as well. She considered asking Taylor for more information about the mountain but when she turned to look at Ianto beside her, she saw that his face was more troubled than it had been earlier so she slid closer and spoke to him quietly.

"What's wrong, Ianto?"

"Gwen, please don't misunderstand. But I'm missing Jack. Not just missing him for me, but for all of us. If Saxon is as diabolical as you believe - and I don't for a moment doubt he is - then we need Jack. You're good, a good leader, a good teammate. You're good for Torchwood. But you aren't devious. To defeat this kind of evil, we need someone as devious as Jack can be."

"I can be devious if I need to be," Gwen purred, trying to make him smile. It worked a bit. She briefly debated with herself about telling him what Saxon had said about him, then decided against it. He was worried enough, she thought, without the added burden of knowing that he was likely to be in Saxon's sights. Instead she said, "Do me a favor and stick close while we're climbing. I'll be more secure knowing I have someone I trust there to cover my back."

It seemed to startle him that she put it that way, but after a moment he nodded, then changed the subject to more lighthearted things, like movies and what kind of a jerk Owen could be sometimes.

They reached the small encampment at the base of the mountain at sundown. There was barely time to pitch their tents before it was full dark. In the morning, the sky was clear but the cold was bitter and the view of the mountain in front of them rendered many of the people on the mission speechless.

It was more than a mountain. It was a massif, with numerous connecting peaks. Taylor came over to say good morning, and he pointed out a pass in the distance that would be the first part of their climb. It looked fairly easy, but they were experiencing good weather at the moment. Gwen grimaced; she could understand how treacherous the climb would be in a blizzard. Owen, equally awe-struck, expressed some doubts about the climb and asked why a helicopter couldn't be used to ferry them up. Taylor, who was standing nearby, launched into a lengthy explanation about why that wouldn't work. Owen finally capitulated and agreed when Tosh jumped in to provide technical details.

After a breakfast of lukewarm coffee and a few cheese sandwiches, they were off to climb a mountain.

Shortly past noon, with the weather still holding mild, they reached a plateau where a group of UNIT soldiers had already established a small camp. The climbers sank gratefully into the seating provided, relieved when they learned this was their stopping point for the night. A lunch of more cheese sandwiches was followed by a period of inactivity as the climbers were each checked over by a UNIT doctor (with whom Owen argued twice just on principle) and their gear was checked by the guides. Dinner followed, more soup and dark, dense bread that almost screamed "full of nutrients." The coffee was warm but not hot, something Ianto pointed out was unavoidable due to the altitude.

After dinner, a few groups huddled together to talk and in one case sing, but the Torchwood team decided to retreat to their sleeping tents, small shelters made of nylon that they had set up together in an circle around their gear. Heads sticking out of their tents they chatted, talking about anything they felt safe discussing in a place where they might be overheard by the wrong people. It was early evening, still, but a quiet had settled over the base camp and sound was carrying on the wind. Gwen had dozed off, and Owen appeared to be fully asleep when the sound of something buzzing reached Tosh and Ianto's ears.

Instantly alert, they got out of their tents and roused the other two. They stumbled into the main camp, joining others in trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. None of Tosh's instruments were providing her with anything conclusive and the sound moved erratically, out of viewing range.

The UNIT radioman's pack began to ring. He grabbed the handset and barked into it. A moment later, he was calling for General Bellingham, Dr. Sterling from the United Nations' Commission on Science and Technology, and the Torchwood commander. Gwen took off at a run towards the radioman's tent. As she skidded inside, the radioman whispered frantically, "He ought not be able to do this. Our antenna array isn't all that well designed. I knew Archangel was good but not this good!"

On speakers she could hear the voice of Harold Saxon, asking if everyone he wanted to address was there. The radioman gulped and said, "All here, sir, Vice Commander Cooper has just arrived."

"Lovely, just lovely," Saxon said in a happy voice. "I'm so glad you three could join me here, gentlemen. And lady, of course, can't forget Gwen, now, can we? Well, I just thought that, as the most advanced scientific team on the planet today and as the best equipped to face down an alien threat, you deserved an advance demonstration of my new friends' abilities. Go on, now, go outside, and say hello to my new best friends. BFFs, I call them, and I also call them the Toclafane. They're delightful, they really are. Go on, now, shoo, shoo, say hello. Oh, and Gwen, I really am sorry you're not my favorite. You really impressed Lucy. But I'm afraid you don't have what I need."

Gwen opened her mouth, meaning to ask something although she was too confused to ask what, but the sound of the first explosion sent her running outside and towards her team.

She reached them just as a cascade of loosened rocks came down on the geneticist Owen had been talking to. Owen, without a second's hesitation, raced to the scientist's side and started to examine him. At the same moment, a tremor in the ground beneath them sent Sherpa Lobsang reeling toward the edge of a newly formed cliff. Tosh was standing close enough to reach for his hand to steady him. Gwen grabbed Ianto by the shoulder and started to pull him away from the explosions, and further up the now dark pass. He tried to resist at first, but when a second volley from what they could now see were metallic spheres firing energy weapons, he agreed to follow her.

She shouted for Owen and Tosh, telling them to follow her. But another shot from a sphere shook the ground and suddenly the cliff Tosh had saved Lobsang from was closer than previously and a shot near their feet sent Lobsang over the edge. Tosh tried to grab for him, but missed. Another rockfall had covered the geneticist completely and Owen was running toward Tosh while cradling his hand.

At that moment, a pair of the spheres set off another rock cascade and the sound of distant rumbling reminded Gwen that there was still the danger of an avalanche. She pulled Ianto under an overhang of rock just as the sound of rushing snow could be heard from somewhere behind them. Moments later, the entire camp, including Owen and Tosh, was buried under the fast moving snow. The already unstable cliff gave way and most of the camp was suddenly falling away into the far end of the pass. Gwen started to scream but Ianto clapped a hand over her mouth, reminding her that they were hiding.

There were some survivors still, standing close to the pass trail. The voices coming from the spheres seemed to be taunting them, reminding them that the spheres could smell their sweat and hear their heartbeats. Rather than wait to see what happened, Gwen pulled Ianto further up the trail as fast as they could go, until the horrific sight of their colleagues being disintegrated was hidden from them. The screams continued, then stopped suddenly and a terrifying silence filled the pass.

Gwen was surprised that the spheres did not seem to be pursuing Ianto and herself, but she didn't question her good fortune. She pointed up the trail, her finger close to Ianto's face so he could see in the limited ambient light. They proceeded with as much stealth as they could manage, successfully navigating until they reached a small plateau about a hundred feet above their previous location. Here they hunched down behind some scrub brush under another rock overhang until light started to break in the sky. Then, still as silently as possible, they pushed on up the trail.

It had occurred to Gwen that an intersecting trail might appear at some point, and she was hoping it would lead them away from whatever horror had destroyed their camp and colleagues. After a mile of climbing, she felt safe whispering her hope to Ianto. He didn't reply, just nodded acknowledgment and continued walking. They found some high country mountain berries that Gwen's small pocket scanner showed to be non-toxic and between those and mouthfuls of the pristine snow they were sustained until they came to another plateau, this one intersected by two trails, the other leading downhill in the direction opposite the destroyed camp. To one side, there was a small opening in the rock wall, hinting at a cave. Ianto pointed to it and they headed towards it, keeping to the surrounding brush to camouflage their footprints in the new snow. 

Once they were inside, Ianto whispered, "Stay here, Gwen. I'm going to check if we were followed."

"No, that should be me doing it," she protested but he laid a hand on her lips. "Gwen, I have to admit something to you. A few things. One is that Jack tells me things he doesn't tell anyone else. And one thing he told me was that if anything happened and it was down to you and me, I was to protect you for him. He thinks you're the best of us. He believes that of all of us, you have the best grasp of what Torchwood, HIS Torchwood, is all about. And, to tell you the truth, I miss him more than you can imagine. Not as Captain Harkness, Commander Torchwood Three. I miss his voice, his face, his touch, his..."

"Then don't take a chance that could get you killed!" Gwen hissed back. "You barmy fool, if you're dead you'll never hear his voice again, never touch his face, never..."

Ianto sighed and punched Gwen square in the jaw. She flew backwards, unconscious. Ianto stepped outside the cave and started pile snow into the entrance. "Stay here," he whispered to her unmoving form. "Stay safe. For Jack. For me. For everyone. I'm going to find Jack. It's all I can do."

By the time Gwen got to her feet, she was solidly closed into the cave, with a small air-hole near the top and a pile of mountain berries and a jerky bar to eat. Beside them she found a flashlight and a small palm sized recorder. It was a message from Ianto, repeating what he had said to her while she was still knocked out, before he finished enclosing the cave. She cursed silently as she started to dig her way out, but the blow had affected her coordination, and she eventually dropped to the floor of the cave in despair.


	4. Day Forty Four: Gwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Gwen.
> 
> In which we meet Martha Jones and discover that Rhys is a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boring disclaimer is boring.

Day Forty-Four: Gwen

After sitting in the middle of the cave Ianto had created around her for a few hours, Gwen realized she was starting to shake uncontrollably. That she hadn't noticed it starting told her that she was in even worse shape than she'd suspected. The blow has hurt her, certainly, but she could tell, in an oddly dispassionate way, that she was descending into deep shock and that had to be stopped somehow. So she took as deep a breath as she could manage and started to dig herself out again, stopping once in a while to eat a handful of snow to keep herself from totally dehydrating. She found that by piling snow on top of Ianto's recorder, she could turn the snow into a bit of cool water, and that more than the snow sustained her.

A half hour later, she had expanded the air hole enough that she could see the outside world. There was no sign of Ianto; a light snowfall had covered his footprints. It was daylight, either still or again, as she wasn't yet sure how long she'd been unconscious and had not been willing to waste battery power to look at her watch.

Halfway across the plateau, she could see a pile of scrub that she didn't remember seeing earlier. She wondered if Ianto had left it there to allow her to start a fire. Beyond the pile of scrub, her eye caught a flash of movement and she pulled her gun from its holster at her waist. She froze until she saw that the movement was a person. General Bellingham, obviously injured, bleeding and limping, came into the clearing and looked around.

"General! General Bellingham!" she called, hoping he could help her escape. He turned to look at her, but collapsed where he was standing. Frantic, Gwen pulled huge handfuls of snow out, occasionally sending it down on top of herself, as she pulled her way out of the cave. She had enough space to escape in a few more minutes, and she grabbed all the supplies she had left and ran towards the fallen man.

The general was barely conscious, and his breathing was shallow. Gwen couldn't tell if he was clammy but he was certainly cold to the touch. She shook him gently. "General, please, say something."

He opened his eyes and stared up at her. "Cooper?" he croaked. "Torchwood, right? They'll find you. You need to run."

"Who are they?" she asked. "And I can't run anywhere, not until I've helped you. You've been injured."

"Do you think I don't know that?" General Bellingham growled. "I managed to be buried under a pile of rocks so they apparently thought I was dead. I think the worst of this is a concussion, sprained ankle, and some deep cuts. Mostly I'm dehydrated. The things left early this morning. But I heard their voices. They sound like children. And they were looking for Torchwood. They found one of you alive. He told them the others were dead, but I don't think they believed him."

Gwen's heart sank. Ianto, they had caught Ianto. It sounded like he was possibly still alive but that was small consolation.

He tried to sit up, but groaned with the effort and Gwen pushed him back down. "Don't force yourself," she said. "I'll get you some water." And she gathered some of the pristine snow into her bare left hand, hoping her body heat would melt and warm it enough for him to derive benefit from it.

While he was sipping from her hand, a shadow fell across the two of them. Gwen leaped to her feet, her gun in her hand. The shadow was of a large woman, wrapped in layers of fabric and wearing fur boots on her feet. She smiled and pointed to herself.

"Jangmu," she said calmly. "Sherpa Lobsang, son."

Gwen winced. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Jangmu," she said, aware that the words probably meant nothing to the woman. "Lobsang is dead. I saw him go over the edge."

Jangmu nodded. "Come home," she said in a commanding tone. "I help." She indicated that Gwen should help her lift General Bellingham. Unable to think of anything else to do or say, Gwen complied.

It took them several hours to complete the descent to the remains of the base camp, but there they found a dozen local men and women waiting to help them. Among the local men was Pemba, who spoke English quite well. As the others rigged a litter to carry the General, Pemba explained that they had seen the explosions from below, and some had ventured up to the base camp to investigate. While several of them had been caught in the deadly fire from the spheres, enough had managed to escape to warn the village. They prepared to flee, but no attack came. Once it was quiet again, two men ventured up to investigate. They found utter destruction. There were two survivors, the General and the radioman. The latter had started screaming as soon as he saw the people, and they'd had to render him unconscious to carry him down to the village. The General was unconscious and they had determined it was safe to leave him behind while they took the radioman down the mountain to the local healer. On the way down, they met a larger group on their way up, and told them what they had seen. Jangmu had been among that group, and shortly before reaching the plateau where the base camp had been set up, she'd found the body of her son. She resolved to save whoever she could on his behalf, which is why, when they realized the General had gotten up and moved, she'd set off up the trail to find him.

Pemba also told Gwen that they'd found some evidence that there had been humans accompanying the spheres, possibly from among the original climbing group. They didn't see any evidence of where those humans had gone, but they had heard a helicopter the day before, and assumed it had found a landing spot halfway down the mountain from the base camp where helicopter flight was less perilous. Gwen stored the information in a mental file labeled "important but useless." She was certain that was how whoever this was had taken Ianto off the mountain, but it didn't answer the why or who.

Four of the men started down the mountain carrying the General, and Pemba suggested that Gwen remain with those still scavenging the base camp for whatever might have survived the slaughter. She was tired and hungry, but the thought of hiking down that mountain right now made her want to cry so she agreed with Pemba.

She didn't expect to find anything useful but was surprised at how much remained. She was pleased to find an almost intact first aid kit, a small stash of MREs, and several wallets containing cash from various nations. She handed those to the man who seemed in charge of sorting out what to keep and what to discard. She braced herself and went to examine the spot where the Torchwood tent had stood. It was collapsed now, visible but scorched. She pushed it up until she could find the zipper, and she opened it enough to peer in. She stifled a sob as she saw Owen's abandoned dirty clothing, Tosh's sunglasses, and a book she seemed to recall Ianto reading. It was a collection of horror stories, she remembered, and she had teased him about it. He'd rolled his eyes but smiled. A tear dripped from the corner of her eye as she thought about the last time she'd seen Ianto, the last time she'd seen Owen and Tosh.

Her eye landed on Tosh's backpack and she reached for it. It felt like a violation of sorts, but she knew that if there was anything of technical value to be found, that's where it would be. Sure enough, she found two different kinds of scanners and a hand held computer, all of which still had power. She found a power pack and a recharger in one of the side pockets of the pack. She carefully avoided touching Tosh's personal belongings, but something glittered at the bottom of the pack, catching the rays of the afternoon sun. She reached in and pulled out a necklace with a pendant made of bright rhinestones set in a circle of gold. She recognized it and burst into tears. It was something they had seen at a cheap secondhand shop a few months ago while investigating a Fallanian synthesizer that had been pawned there. The necklace had been on a discount rack and Tosh had joked about some lucky girl getting it from a secret admirer. The next morning it had been on her desk. Gwen had always assumed Jack had been the one to buy it until Ianto had told her, and sworn her to secrecy, that he'd seen Owen slyly purchasing it on the team's way out of the store. Tosh later told her she'd figured it out, too, and no one had given it a second thought. Yet here it was. Tosh kept it near her.

Gwen put the necklace in her pocket, not sure why but certain it belonged there. She climbed back inside the tent and rummaged around until she'd found as much of Owen's medical kit as she could, and almost as an afterthought she rifled Ianto's pack, discovering that he had an mp3 player in there as well as a GPS, a spare pistol and enough ammunition to repel a small army. Provided it wasn't an army of metallic orbs, she mused sourly. She pocketed the pistol and as much of the ammunition as she could carry, and almost as an afterthought, she reached in to get her own pack out, dropping the scanners, GPS, mp3 player and additional ammunition into it. She handed the medical equipment to one of the Nepalese men and explained to Pemba that she would be keeping the Torchwood equipment and weapons until she found a satisfactorily secure storage location for them. He didn't question her decision. Nor did he question why Ianto's mp3 player would be considered Torchwood equipment.  
She had taken nothing personal of Owen's, she realized. They had had an illicit affair which ended badly, but it had been over for a few months; they had even managed to recover from the disaster of it to become somewhat friendly. She had felt uncomfortable rummaging among his personal items but she wanted something to remember him by. She climbed back into the tent one more time and glanced through the pile of things she had emptied from his pack. And there it was. Small, in an unassuming leather bi-fold holder, she found three photographs. One was of a woman Gwen didn't recognize, but the one beside it showed her with Owen, both of them happy. The backdrop was London, meaning it was probably taken at least three years ago. The third picture was Diane, the woman from the nineteen-fifties who fell through the Rift into Owen's heart two months ago, only to leave again when the wild sky claimed her spirit. "I hope you found the one you're looking for," she whispered to the wind as she stood up, placing the photo holder into her pack.

Sunset was approaching and one of the men had started a fire while one of the women was starting to prepare something that was apparently to be dinner. The ingredients were largely unfamiliar to Gwen, but she was so hungry she felt she could eat rocks. When a few of the others started to put up tents, she helped as she could and when the food was ready she ate with gusto, realizing that the meal was just a lentil curry like those she had eaten countless times at home. Yet nothing had ever tasted so delicious to her, and she collapsed into the tent indicated for her and three other women with gratitude, sleeping soundly until the women shook her the following morning so they could take down the tents and start the trip to their village.

The descent was made in silence, for which Gwen was grateful. Too much conversation, even in a language she couldn't understand, would have been disturbing to her after the past few days.

In the village she found General Bellingham being treated by an English speaking monk from a nearby monastery. The radioman, however, remained uncontrollably hysterical. They had taken to using any means at their disposal to keep him unconscious, not even excluding the occasional punch to the jaw. Gwen's jaw ached in sympathy. She checked through the medical supplies and found some sedatives. The monk thanked her, saying he would like to take the radioman (no one knew his name) with him to the monastery where the atmosphere might reassure and soothe him. With the UNIT General stabilized and now out of pain, the monk departed, along with four men from the village helping to transport the radioman.

As Gwen stood in the center of the village feeling a bit lost, Jangmu came to her and indicated a small lane lined with houses. "Home," she said to Gwen. "You home."

"I couldn't," Gwen protested. "You've just suffered such a great loss...."

Pemba joined them and took Gwen's arm. "Please, let her be your hostess. She had nothing left but her son. She needs to take care of you."

Gwen gulped and nodded. She didn't completely understand, but she felt the longing from the woman, the need to do what her son would have wanted. "Please, tell her I'm honored. And tell her that he died ... he died well. He died trying to save another person, he was trying to protect my teammate whose name was Toshiko Sato, and they were friends." It was a small spin on the actual truth but it certainly would have happened that way had Sherpa Lobsang had any choice in the matter.

Pemba relayed the information to Jangmu who, unexpectedly, grabbed Gwen and hugged her. Gwen returned the hug, and then followed the woman down the lane to her home.

A week passed with no indication that anyone from the outside world had even noticed the events on the slopes of Mount Manaslu. Gwen discovered she'd suffered a small bout of frostbite on her toes, but it was healing nicely. General Bellingham was almost able to walk again and all signs of his concussion had abated. One of his deeper cuts had become infected but between Gwen and Pemba, they had managed to find enough disinfectant to stop that before it became too deadly. Both Gwen and the General had stopped jumping at all sudden noises, although she was sure if a truck or car arrived she'd faint on the spot.

On the eighth day in the village, Gwen's mobile phone rang. She'd kept it in her pack and as she had no way to recharge it, she had turned it off. So the sound was not only unexpected, it was impossible. She dug the mobile out from the bottom of the pack and stared at the caller ID. It said it was Rhys calling. Her first instinct was to open the phone and scream at her fiance, tell him she was alive and that she loved him. Then she remembered that there wasn't supposed to be mobile access this high into the region and she held back. It stopped ringing, probably directed to voice mail, and then the phone went dead again. An hour later, it rang a second time. As she stared at it, one of the women from the village, who spoke nominally more English than did Jangmu, stepped into the house and took the unit gently from Gwen's hands. She opened it and barked, "Hello? Hello? Who this?"

Gwen could hear the response, and knew it wasn't Rhys calling her at all. She sank onto the pile of blankets that made up her bed and buried her face in her hands as she listened to the now-despised voice of the detestable Harold Saxon say, pleasantly, "I would like very much to speak to Gwen Cooper, if you would be so kind as to put her on the line. It's about her fiance."

Gwen started to surge upwards but the woman put a foot on her leg and forced her back down. The woman replied into the mobile, "Who? Who this? Who call?"

The man at the other end sighed, then switched to another language that Gwen recognized as Tibetan, a language most of the people here were likely to speak well. His tone was genial, so far as she could tell, and the woman responded with a few full sentences, then started to speak only in clipped monosyllables. Finally he was either convinced or bored and he hung up. The woman did the same, then threw the mobile out of the house to someone who was waiting for it. "No phone," she said. "Phone can be found. We throw phone. You stay here."

A short time later there was another ringing sound, and Gwen discovered that the radioman's setup had also been called, as well as General Bellingham's mobile. In all cases, it was answered by someone who could not converse in English. When she had a moment to talk to Bellingham, he said that the call to his phone had come from his eldest daughter's school. In all cases, it was apparently Harold Saxon calling.

Pemba told both of them to stay indoors. Gwen heartily agreed and returned to Jangmu's house, where the older woman insisted on dressing her in her own clothing. The layers of fabric smelled strongly of lanolin. Then she handed Gwen a fur trimmed knit cap. Before Gwen could put it on, though, Jangmu grabbed her hair and rubbed something that smelled gamy into it. Then she piled Gwen's hair atop her head and put the cap on her. It took a few minutes for Gwen to get used to the smell, but at least it didn't smell rotten.

Two hours later, there was a buzzing sound. Gwen leaped to her feet, but Jangmu held onto her, shaking her head. They crept to the doorway to look out.

Three of the spheres that had attacked the base camp (or others just like them; it was impossible to tell) came floating up the road. They stopped in the middle of the village. A voice, a child's voice, came from one (or perhaps all) of them. "You have three of the westerners here," the voice said, repeating every sentence in a language familiar to the villagers. "If you turn them over to us we will leave you in peace."

There was some conversation among the villagers, then Pemba spoke on their behalf. "The westerners are dead," he said in English. "We could not help them. Why did you do this?"

"We can smell the westerners," the spheres replied, ignoring Pemba's question.

"You smell their clothes," Pemba said. "We took what we could and left the bodies for the birds to feast on. That is our way."

There was a pause. Then the spheres said, "We will look for ourselves. Have everyone from the village come out or we will go into their homes and do what we must."

Slowly, reluctantly, the villagers came out of their homes. More than one of them was heavily clothed, not unexpected as the day was chilly even by Himalayan standards, but it occurred to Gwen that she was being protected by these people. A glance down the lane showed that General Bellingham was also bundled in layers upon layers of clothing, but she was afraid he would still be found out because of his size.

The spheres went as a group from house to house, looking at and seemingly sniffing each inhabitant. The lanolin and gamy grease that Jangmu had used on Gwen now made sense. As the spheres approached their home, Jangmu put an arm around Gwen and said something in her native language to the spheres. She then pressed the side of Gwen's head so that her face fell, partially obscured, onto the older woman's shoulder. The spheres hovered almost touching Jangmu, then said something in her language and flew on. Jangmu then released Gwen, hissed something at her and kicked her inside the house.

Gwen could still watch out of the open door, but the spheres had moved beyond her field of vision. She knew they were getting close to where General Bellingham was hiding in plain sight. The spheres stopped in front of each other house, and she could tell from the sounds of conversation that they questioned several of the inhabitants more closely than they had Jangmu and herself. The villagers replied as quickly as they could, from the sound of things. It was obvious they wanted the spheres gone but they were convincing in their cooperation. After a few moments, Gwen heard something that surprised her. The spheres had questioned someone who had replied in what seemed to be the local language, spoken fluidly and confidently -- by General Bellingham.

Apparently satisfied that none of the westerners remained in the village, the spheres returned to the central area and addressed the people. Jangmu had come into the house, and she whispered, "They go. Look for monks. No talk now."

Gwen took this to mean the spheres were going to find the monastery and question the monks, and that she was to remain silent for a while yet just in case. She did just that, sitting in frightened silence with Jangmu until the spheres came back, several long hours later. They spoke to several of the men of the village and then disappeared. From what Gwen could see, they hadn't flown or floated away, hadn't risen into the sky, or done anything she would have expected. One moment there were there, the next moment they were gone.

The village remained tense and mostly silent until nightfall. Jangmu finally started to make dinner and as Gwen helped her chop vegetables, she tried to explain what she had done. "I say you wife Lobsang. Lobsang gone. You ... " She motioned with her fingers at her eyes, and Gwen recognized she was trying to say "cry." As Gwen interpreted it, Jangmu had told the spheres that Gwen was her daughter-in-law, recently widowed and in mourning. This explained why she hid her face and was pressed so closely to Jangmu. Gwen was grateful to the woman, and unsure how to express it.

The village slept fitfully and in the morning, Pemba came to Jangmu's house and spoke to Gwen. "We will take you to Pokhara. From there you will be transported into India." Gwen looked quizzically at the man, who smiled gently. "We have been invaded and occupied before. We know how to conduct an underground. We know what it means to fight for our survival."

As Gwen, General Bellingham (who had insisted she start to call him Frank), Pemba and Sherpa Goba walked toward a bus depot several miles from their village, Pemba asked the westerners for a favor. "Please tell the people to fight. We have lived under oppression; we know how to survive that. But those things, they kill without feeling. And the people cannot survive that without fighting. Please, you are brave people. Please tell them to fight. Teach them."

The two agreed.

It took nearly three weeks to get Gwen and General Bellingham to New Delhi. There, Pemba and Sherpa Goba said farewell and set off for their village. General Bellingham found a former UNIT colleague living under an assumed name in the slums, and this colleague filled them in on what they had missed while in the Himalayas.

The colleague, a Canadian data analyst named Philip Chalker, had managed to hide out by wiping his own name and the names of anyone he could think of from the UNIT database before Archangel slurped it up into its network. He kept a diary, hand-written and hidden under floorboards in his small house on the eastern side of New Delhi. He chronicled the excesses and abuses of the Toclafane, under the command of Harold Saxon, now known as "The Master." Particular cities had been wiped out in a single night, including Calcutta, Manchester in England, Lyon in France, Chicago in the United States, Brazil's Fortaleza, Mombasa in Kenya ... the list went on.

"Cardiff was spared?" Gwen asked, the first spark of hope she'd felt since leaving that city.

"Well, twenty percent of the population was killed, and power and water are rationed, and we've heard stories about monsters rampaging through the streets, but Cardiff proper still stands. I understand Saxon ... or The Master, rather ... is using someplace there as the center of operations for western Great Britain."

Gwen blinked and remained outwardly impassive. Saxon had taken control of the Hub.

"And one of your number," Chalker went on, "is being held up on the Valiant along with some other folks that this Master has a personal grudge against. A family, for one, that I've seen behind him during his weekly broadcasts, some fellow he's shrunk without killing, which is impressive, and a tall dark-haired fellow he keeps chained up."

"Ianto?" Gwen asked. "What on Earth could he have against...?" It finally clicked. "Oh my God, Jack! That's where Jack's been!" She shook her head. "And Ianto went off to find him. Foolish boy. Poor, dear, foolish boy."

The two men from UNIT allowed her a space of time to mourn before returning to discuss what they planned to do.

"We have to fight back," Gwen insisted, feeling the weight of Pemba's words about violent oppression, still.

"How?" Chalker asked, hissing his disapproval. "These things don't just kill, they vaporise you. Nothing left to tell your family you're gone. And from the sounds we've heard, it's not a quick death. How do you ask people to fight that? Heads down, hide, that's the best advice we can give them."

Bellingham studied Gwen for a moment. Then he said, "I've heard some stories about Harkness, that he once lead a small band against an invincible foe even though he knew he would die as a result. Now, how he managed to survive is a mystery, but I've met the man and I believe the story. In his spirit, Vice Commander Cooper, do you feel it is in you to find and instruct the willing, to foment revolution against a foe like that?"

Gwen gulped. Put that way, it sounded daunting. It sounded frightening. It sounded impossible. All she wanted, at that very moment, was to close her eyes and wake up curled up beside Rhys on their sofa, the credits to a very bad science fiction movie scrolling across the television. Rhys would be asleep, too, snoring lightly but when she stirred he'd come awake instantly, ready to hold her as she tried, bleary eyed and tired, to get herself into bed.

All she wanted was Rhys and her old life back. In that order. But all she could have was this.

She nodded. "I can. I will. It has to be done. No one ever won against towering odds by keeping their heads down and hiding. Even escape can be a form of rebellion. But hiding is just that. I don't blame the ones who are hiding. It's terrifying out there. But someone has to fight this. And I think that's me."

The following day, a pair of Indian boys, whose names Gwen never learned, helped her across the city and into the surrounding countryside. From there a team of unnamed and silent farmers took her in their cart as far as the Pakistani border. Here she was met by a small family of what appeared to be gypsies, although Gwen suspected they were just posing as such to allay suspicion among the soldiers they occasionally met. The family dressed her in their clothing and took her north, through cities she'd only heard of in books and movies: Peshawar, Mazar-el-Sharif, Dushanbe, Samarkand, and on into Russia. She met hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people who wanted to rally and fight back against the spheres and their evil master, but were unable to unite. At each stop, in a storeroom or basement or somewhere equally secluded and private, she taught them how to shoot, how to jump for protective cover, how to care for one another and hide one another. She taught them ways to communicate, ways she'd only ever read about and had always equated with criminal activity until now. But now, she realized, in the new order of things, she was the criminal. And she was starting to feel good about that.

Across Russia she went, the weeks turning to months and the weather changing almost daily. The family delivered her to a new set of traveling companions in Sofia, Bulgaria. Here she was attached to a traveling folk-dance troupe. She had no idea how to dance the complicated moves they used, and was instead put to work maintaining their colorful wardrobes by day, still doing her lessons in effective insurgency at night. The dance troupe took her up the coast and into Italy, where she was placed among a small group of vintners who were trying to eke out a living from their harvest by selling their wine from the back of a cart to anyone who brought a bottle or a glass for them to fill.

One night, in Milan, she learned she wasn't the only one traveling in such secret.

The meeting was held in the basement of a parking structure near the center of the city. Gwen had been introduced and she and Marco, the vintner who doubled as her interpreter, were beginning to explain the intricacies of the shotgun one of the attendees had brought along when one of the lookouts raced into the room and started to bark instructions. "Qualcuno y arrivo," he hissed. "Un altro organizzatore. Oscurare nostro ospite!" ("Someone is coming. Another organizer. Hide our guest.")

Several hands reached up and took hold of Gwen and Marco, settling them in the middle of the small group. By the time the other lookout arrived, no one could have told who was local and who was visiting.

The arrival was a tall, slender, dark skinned woman. She seemed hardened but her smile was kind. The elderly man who accompanied her and translated for her was known to the people in the room. Marco whispered into Gwen's ear that he had been a scientist and a professor before the arrival of the spheres.

The woman was English, for which Gwen was silently grateful. It meant she didn't need to wait until afterwards to find out from Marco what this had all been about.

The woman had been with Saxon, she said, when he revealed his plan. Gwen stifled a giggle, but in her mind she could hear Rhys saying, "Rules for Evil Overlords Number 7: When I've captured my adversary and he says, 'Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?' I'll shoot him then say 'No.'"

Martha continued explaining that Saxon was an alien masquerading as a human being, that he was one of the last two aliens of a once proud race from a once proud and powerful planet named Gallifrey. She told them that Saxon was damaged, considered insane even by the standards of his own people but because of being one of them he had tremendous powers, which he used to achieve evil ends. Another being from Gallifrey had also survived the destruction of their people, someone called the Doctor. (The translator called him Il Profesore, leading Gwen to think he was some kind of teacher if not leader.) This Doctor was fond of Earth and its people, and this infuriated Saxon, who preferred to be called by a name he'd given himself, the Master. Thus this Master, this insane and powerful alien, had taken it upon himself to wreak havoc and destruction upon the Earth.

There were people who had determined a way to destroy the spheres, Martha went on. The resistance movement was helping save lives, and helping bring about the day when peace would return to the planet. She encouraged them to fight whenever they could, to protect those who could not, and to keep faith.

"The day will come, soon I hope, that I will be calling upon all of you to lend your strength to the Doctor, to helping him break the walls that confine him and bring down the Master. All I ask is that on that day, at that time, you believe. Believe in me. Believe in the Doctor. That's all I ask."

Gwen found herself drawn in. This must be the Doctor Jack spoke of. The hand, she mused, the one Jack had kept in a jar or some kind, the living hand he cherished above all other things, was somehow connected to this Doctor. Perhaps it was like Tinker Bell, and all they had to do was believe and the hand would regrow into a person. Her imagination failed her at that point. But she knew that Jack believed in the Doctor. And Gwen believed in Jack.

As the meeting was breaking up, Gwen whispered to Marco, "Tell her that there is another survivor from Cardiff here. Tell her someone still lives to carry on for Jack. I hope she'll understand."

Marco shrugged, and told Gwen to be sure to be out of sight before he approached Martha. She was an amazing woman, he said, but spies come in all shapes and sizes and he considered Gwen too valuable to expose her to the level of danger Martha could potentially pose. Gwen left with another of the vintners, and climbed up on the cart to wait for Marco.

He returned several minutes later, and simply nodded. The cart was horse-drawn, and once it was underway the sound of the hooves striking pavement made enough noise that Marco was confident no one could overhear him.

"She say she will do what she can. You should go back to Cardiff, though. You are needed there." And he refused to say anything more. But the following morning found Gwen on route to France with a family who were on their way to live with relatives after they had been forced out of their home by soldiers loyal to the Master. No one in the family seemed talkative, although when they were stopped at the border, the eldest male of the family identified Gwen as his sister without hesitation.

Gwen had expected to be sent to Calais, to cross the channel in the tunnel there. Instead, after a few days with the relatives of the family she had come into France with, she was handed off to a fisherman who took her to the coast to hide in his boat. Ducking behind the engine in the foul-smelling inner belly of the fishing boat, she waited until some officials and a metallic sphere performed a cursory inspection before giving the crew the okay to set off. A half hour later, the captain of the vessel appeared and beckoned to her to come out of hiding. She stayed below deck until the captain called her name. She she emerged, she saw that they were out of sight of land. A young man was lowering an inflatable life raft over the side of the boat. In accented English he called for her to join him, jumping into the water and then climbing aboard the raft.

She did as he told her and they sat, wet and silent, until the fishing boat had churned its way to the north, leaving the small raft tossing in its wake.  
Her companion on the raft had been introduced to her as Alain with no surname and she suspected Alain was a pseudonym. He was uncommunicative, and as soon as the fishing boat was out of sight and the wake had died down, he started to row westward, towards England. Hours later, she saw a familiar shape. It was the Eddystone Lighthouse. Unaware of it at first, she started to hum. When the sound finally registered with her, she smiled and sang softly under her breath a song Rhys had sung to her once while they were visiting relatives in Plymouth.

> My father was the keeper of the Eddystone light  
>  He slept with a mermaid one fine night  
>  From this match came children three:  
>  A porpoise and a porgy and the other was me!  
>  Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,  
>  Oh for the life on the rolling sea! 

Alain looked at her sceptically, but said nothing. The raft maneuvered past the dangerous rocks and to the base of the lighthouse. Here Alain pointed for her to disembark. As she climbed the rocks and then steps she heard Alain rowing again and turned to see him leaving. Gwen was suddenly terrified. The lighthouse was unmanned, had been for years. She paused and waved frantically but the raft kept moving further and further away. When it became abundantly obvious that she was being left at the lighthouse, she started to circle the platform at its base looking for a door. She found one, but it was locked. A determined yank, however, caused the somewhat rusted mechanism to crack and she was able to force it open, finding herself in the dark at the base of the lighthouse. But at least she was inside, out of the spray and rain. Hopefully someone knew she was here and would appear to collect her. If not ... she dared not think of if not. To have come this far, to have done so much, only to end it within shouting distance of home, was unthinkable.

To keep herself entertained and awake, she started to hum again, then sing quietly.

A second voice joined hers and she jumped, reaching for the gun she had hidden in her waistband. She couldn't see but it took only moments for her to recognize the voice.

She threw herself in the direction of the voice, tears flooding from her eyes. "You're here!" she whispered in amazement. "Oh, God, Rhys, you're alive!"

The familiar chuckle surrounded her with memories and joy. Then she felt his arms, his lips, his hair in her hands and his body pressed against hers.

"I think, cariad, that you need to stop telling me you're going to Spain when you're going to Nepal," he said softly. She tried to reply but tears had blocked her voice and all she could do was grunt. "It's all right, sweetheart," Rhys told her. "We heard about it a week ago, when word came that the big Torchwood organizer was on her way home to Cardiff. It didn't take much for me to suss it out. I saw that pretty boy of yours, the bloke with the coat -- yes, yes, I've seen him before, it's all right --" He smiled into her eyes which, even in the near pitch dark, he could tell bore hints of guilt. "I saw him on the telly, in chains in the background whilst that Saxon beast was announcing his dominance over the world. It didn't take long for me to put the numbers together and come up with Gwen Cooper, Vice Commander, Torchwood Three. Quite a title they gave you..."

She finally found her voice. "Rhys! How long have you known?"

"That you weren't actually normal Special Ops? Not so long as you'd think. I had inside information, though. One day your mate Andy showed up at my door and told me to grab what I could and get out. Turns out you and me were wanted. He explained the local police had been contacted to bring me in, and they'd given him a day to get me out of town. The coppers take care of their own, don't they? He said it was for my own protection that I had to get out, that they'd use me to get to you if you were still alive. And I knew you were alive, love. I'd have known if you were dead. So I learned to shoot and learned to hide and now I'm part of the Cardiff resistance. So when we heard the big talker, the organizer from Torchwood, was on her way I knew it was you, and I told them I was the only one who could meet you, the only one I was sure you would trust."

He would have kept talking but she took command of his lips and kissed him so hard he was backed up to a wall. Sliding down, with her in his arms, he laughed, this time gently. "Rescue is coming tomorrow night. I told them I wanted one night with you alone. Since we can't light a stove, we can't have hot tea, sorry. But would you like some biscuits and juice? Beer? Anything?"

She grabbed at him again and said, "Just you."

An hour later the couple were lying on blankets on the cold floor, holding one another fiercely even as they slipped into sleep. As she drifted off, Gwen said, "You need to shave..." Rhys laughed and fell asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Italian was translated from the English using Inter-trans.


	5. Day Forty Four: Ianto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And what of Ianto? you ask. Well, his adventure is different from Gwen's. And a little more bizarre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer. Still boring.
> 
> Additional warnings here for M/M kissing, horribly inappropriate clothing, mental torture, and discussion of really bad food.

Cold-cocking Gwen was not what would normally have been his first choice in any situation, Ianto thought wryly as he slowly and carefully descended the pass trail towards the base camp's remains. In an ideal situation, he would have taken her into his confidence, told her what his brain was screaming at him, and gotten her to help. But she was Gwen. She took responsibility for everyone in her general vicinity, whether they needed her to or not. She would someday be an excellent, if somewhat smothering, mother. And her tenacity was what had made her a stellar police officer and a wonderful member of the Torchwood Three team. But right now, her caring would have sent her racing after Ianto, and her tenacity would have kept her after him until she got herself killed.

As he descended the pass, he analyzed his own motives. He had not lied to Gwen; Jack had once said to him that, while Jack needed Ianto, the entire world needed Gwen. And he had extracted a promise that Ianto would do all in his power to ensure that Gwen survived any threats to Torchwood, on the grounds that Gwen had understood Jack's plan for the organization in her heart and soul. It was Jack's belief that she, alone of them all, could embody it. It might not have made sense to Ianto at the time, and he may have given his promise more to humor Jack than because he shared Jack's opinion at the time, but it had all fallen solidly into place for him over the past weeks.

The motive he was questioning, however, was the one that was sending him voluntarily into the face of a deadly horror with nothing more than a pistol and determination. After all, he could have stayed with Gwen, hiding in a small cave behind a wall of fallen snow, waiting until the threat was further away before escaping back to civilization, or at least safety. But, instead, he felt an obligation to walk directly into the maw of danger in an effort to find Jack. Every cell in his body was settled into a belief that his place was at Jack Harkness' side.

It was more than just loyalty, he knew. Loyalty to Torchwood, loyalty to the team, even loyalty to Jack himself was important to Ianto. Had been even before Torchwood in general and Jack in particular had not only forgiven him for trying to destroy them all in his doomed attempt to save the woman he loved, but had made a conscious effort to help him back onto his feet after it was over. But when he had looked at the dead (and he WAS dead) body of Jack Harkness all those months ago, after Jack had sacrificed himself to save the world from the monster Abbadon, it wasn't the dread feeling of losing a leader Ianto felt. It was the keen sense of loneliness that comes from losing something so important to him it left a hole in his very existence. When Jack had risen, days later, Ianto had felt almost unworthy of the gift. Jack accepting him back into his life, his kiss and his wordless whispers into Ianto's ear, had left him almost giddy. He had felt this way once before. He'd had to give her up, watch her die, to save the world. And that knowledge did nothing to sway Ianto's feelings.

He was in love with Jack. Was it mutual? He didn't know. He didn't care. His place was with Jack. He realized he was smiling at that thought. When Jack came back to Torchwood -- and Ianto firmly believed it would happen, someday, some way -- he would try to put his feelings into more sensible words and order. But for now, he was going to do the irrational thing, and follow what his heart told him was right. Jack was alive; he could tell in ways that couldn't be explained in words. And Jack needed him, had always needed him and would always need him. Ianto felt his spine stiffen, something he always had thought was just a literary device to describe something intangible. If Jack were alive, and Ianto was alive, then Ianto's place was with Jack.

He could still hear the occasional buzz from the remaining spheres, but there were no screams and it seemed as though the attack was over. He hid behind a snowdrift, realizing it was a pile left from the avalanche and not a true drift, and watched as the spheres zipped around the remains of the base camp, stopping as if sniffing whenever they saw something that might have had human shape. They vaporized a couple of rocks, presumably because they thought there might be humans beneath them still alive. One sphere slowly made its way over to the other side of Ianto's hiding place.

"I can smell you," the childlike voice said. "And I can hear your heart beating. You might as well come out and see me. I could melt the show if you'd prefer."

"I'd prefer to remain behind the snow if it's all the same to you," Ianto said, hoping his quavering voice didn't belie his bravado to the sphere. "At least until you tell me where Jack Harkness is."

Silence followed this. After a good thirty seconds, the sphere spoke. "Are you Torchwood?"

"I might be," Ianto said with false ease. "So are you going to tell me where Captain Harkness is?"

Again, there was a silent pause. The reply from the sphere came quicker than the previous one had. "Your name? And relationship to Captain Harkness?"

He filed away the fact that they knew where Jack was. "Not fair, I asked my question first," he said.

"Oh, a game, a game!" The voice sounded excited. He could almost hear clapping in it. "The Master says you're to come with us. We can keep on playing then. I'm so glad. I'll give you three questions that I can answer yes or no to. And then you can guess where Captain Harkness is."

Ianto rolled his eyes, caught himself, and realized his favorite facial expression might not be impressive to the spheres. "Ten questions," he counter-offered, hoping the game aspect would keep the sphere from growing too impatient with him.

"Five," it said promptly.

"Eight."

"Six."

"Seven."

"Done!" the sphere trumpeted. "Ask your first question."

Ianto could hear a helicopter in the distance. He reached into the pocket of his outer parka, feeling around for one of the recorders. He pressed what he hoped was the record button, intending to leave a recording of his guessing game for Gwen to eventually find. "Is Captain Harkness with Harold Saxon?"

The sphere giggled. "You can't call him that anymore. It's not his real name. He's the Master. So no. Next question."

That answered the question, though. Ianto was sure that, had the answer been outright no, the sphere would have said so. It also told him that the sphere was capable of giving itself away. He thought for a moment. "Is he on the planet Earth?"

"This is too easy! No."

Well, that had saved him having to waste questions to narrow down where on the planet Jack might be. "Is he on a space station?"

"No," was the reply, but it was slightly hesitant.

Ianto thought back to plans he'd seen with Torchwood One and Torchwood Three, plans for various types of space stations and platforms. There had been a rumor, he recalled, that the Archangel network had as part of its system a sky platform similar to a space station but in lower geosynchronous orbit above Scotland. He couldn't remember the name the platform was supposed to go by but decided it wasn't important. Now he knew where Jack was and whose prisoner he was. So he tried a different approach. "Is he alongside a former lover on the sky platform?"

The voice of the sphere became petulant. "That's two questions. We're not stupid! You only get one question at a time."

Ianto sighed. He'd given it his best try. "Is Jack on the sky platform built as part of the Archangel network?"

"Yes." The sphere seemed to be pouting and sunk to monosyllables as punishment for him asking something so on the mark.

"And is he alongside a former lover?" He hoped he would be allowed two more questions, but was not sure the spheres would easily dismiss the one they had refused to answer.

But it was now suddenly obvious that Saxon was controlling the spheres. Instead of answering him, it spat out, "He's a FREAK! He can't die! What the bloody hell is wrong with the man that I can't kill him? He can walk into a full on radiation stream and SURVIVE!"

Saxon’s insanity leaked through the voice of the sphere and Ianto found himself unsure for the first time since he'd decided on this course of action. He had no choice, now, though, so he plowed on. "Will you be taking me to Jack?"

The sphere was still pouting now that Saxon had gotten that scream out of his system. "Don’t know yet," it said.

"Last question," Ianto began but he heard a human voice shouting a series of numbers and realized it was a pass-code to permit the human to approach the sphere as an ally.

"Your transport awaits, Ianto Jones," said the sphere. Then it giggled. "We found your voice recording at your little Hub. It's not all that hard. You twenty first century humans are so primitive. By the way, where is the rest of your team?"

"Dead," Ianto said, sounding bitter. He tried to extract his recorder to drop it in the snow but was surprised by a human sneaking up behind him and grabbing him, immobilizing his arms. He was hustled out from behind the snow pile and efficiently searched by a pair of men in the uniforms of some private army. His remaining weapon and all his electronic devices were sealed into a heavy looking container, and he was clapped into uncomfortable restraints. With one of the private soldiers dragging him, he went down to a plateau a half mile lower than the one the base camp had been on, where a helicopter waited. He was shoved unceremoniously into the back with some unmarked boxes and crates, and the helicopter took to the sky.

He tried to pay attention to his location by watching through a tiny sliver of window available to him from his position, but what he saw was mostly sky. He hadn't thought he could relax enough to sleep but the past days finally caught up to him and as all the adrenaline drained away from his body he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

He awoke as he was being transferred into a seat on a luxurious private airplane. He was still restrained, but the seat was comfortable and care was taken to assure that he was safely belted in. No one spoke to him and he decided to leave conversing for another time. His two guards, one a man with scars down the side of his face that seemed to be from a burn of some kind and the other a short, dour faced older woman, were eating and he wished he could get something to allay the hunger he was feeling, but was unwilling to break into their silence to ask.

A minute after the thought of hunger crossed his mind another guard appeared with a glass containing what appeared to be a milkshake with a straw. It was placed on a table beside Ianto, in a position from which he could reach it with his mouth and drink most of it. His gratitude was limited, however, as he tried to determine how someone had known he was hungry. His stomach was long past the growling state and it didn't make sense to him that his captors were anticipating his needs, especially not given the security of the restraints holding him firmly in his seat.

He'd been tested for psychic ability at Torchwood One, of course. Anyone who worked for Torchwood was tested for it. He'd rated in the middle level group, not enough ability to cultivate for the Institute's purposes yet enough to be of concern. Thus he had had rudimentary training in shielding his thoughts and in separating input from others from his own fantasies. The shielding process pretty much cut off all outside input and he'd long ago stopped even thinking about his own minor psychic gift. Now he wondered if someone on board the aircraft was a high level trained psychic, reading him. He put a metaphorical lock on his thoughts and worked frantically on remembering the exercises he had been taught to strengthen his shielding. No one looked up at him, or gave any indication that what he was doing inside his mind had been noticed. With his improved shielding in place, he relaxed, realizing that there was a good chance the milkshake was sent to him because logic would indicate he should be hungry and it was obvious he was being preserved, not prepared to be killed. At least not immediately.

The windows in the cabin of the airplane were covered, so Ianto couldn't tell where they were but he could tell from the sound of the engines that they were preparing to descend. He leaned back and tried to relax in preparation for what was to come. He was surprised at how quickly the airplane came to its landing site, and thought from the feel of things that they had landed on an aircraft carrier. This intrigued him, as he had never heard of a private airplane equipped with the proper gear for such a landing.

The door opened, and his guards took his elbows and lead him from the airplane. He realized immediately that he was on board the sky platform he had heard about. The name came to him at last. The Valiant. He had been brought onto the Valiant.

There was no time for him to indulge his curiosity about the place, as he was hurried along into a long, windowless corridor. There were doors every few feet, most without windows but the few that he could see into terrified him. They were cells, certainly, but with bars in the walls and chains hanging from the walls and ceilings.

A door without a window was opened and he was pushed inside. His restraints remained on him, and the door was pulled shut, isolating him in the frightening and small room. There was a steel slab that apparently served as a bed, and a wooden chair. And chains from the walls and ceilings. And a camera in a corner of the ceiling. Ianto sat on the edge of the steel slab and glared at the camera.

Ten minutes or so later, he was still glaring at the camera. The door opened and a guard came in, followed by someone Ianto had been expecting to see: Harold Saxon. The man was smiling in an open and apparently friendly manner but his eyes had a glint that Ianto recognized as madness.

Saxon sat down on the chair and rubbed his hands together. "You'd be Mr. Jones, wouldn't you? From Torchwood Cardiff. Lovely to see you again. Such a shame about your teammates, though? Would you like to talk about it? It might make you feel better. Come on, now, Ianto. I CAN call you Ianto, can I not? Unburden yourself, tell me how they died. I will be happy to listen without judging."

Ianto stared at the man. He couldn't decide if he were staring at a complete lunatic or someone so alien that he had no concept of human feelings. Having nothing much to lose, he decided to ask.

"Prime Minister, may I ask you a question?

Saxon's face fell for a moment, and he hissed, "I am the Master! Call me the Master!" Then he resumed his attitude of benign friendliness.

Ianto tried again, "Master, sir, may I ask you a question?"

Saxon smiled. "I've nothing to hide from you, Ianto. Ask away."

"Are you really non-human?"

Saxon appeared to consider the question. "I'm really not sure how to answer that," he said, looking thoughtful. "I look like a human, do I not? And I eat like one, sleep like one, between you and me I use the urinal like one. But am I in fact non-human? What part of me would be non-human, do you think? My hair does give me trouble sometimes. And Lucy tells me my fashion sense would drive any human to drink. Is that how you mean the question?"

"So you were born on Earth to human parents?" Ianto asked, hoping he wasn't provoking the man more than was safe.

Saxon's face dropped into a suspicious expression and he watched Ianto through narrowing eyes. "You're Torchwood, aren't you? I thought you lot were always on the lookout for a Time Lord called the Doctor. Is that who you think I am? Because I. Am. Not. The. Doctor."

The way Saxon said it answered a huge question in Ianto's mind. Saxon was a Time Lord, the same race as the being Torchwood had deemed the Earth's greatest enemy. And Saxon was a maniac. Possibly even by Time Lord standards.

"I would never mistake you for such a one as he," Ianto said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I am just wondering if you're non-human because the accomplishments you're known for are rather massive for someone as young as you appear."

The Saxon charm returned in a flash. He smiled and almost preened. "Yes, I am brilliant, am I not? A shame this is the only way I can prove it. Now, then, Ianto, let's talk about you. You work for that lovely Captain Jack Harkness, don't you?"

Ignoring the sudden tightening of his chest and heart, Ianto maintained a placid face and nodded.

"Well, I think you might have something to report to the Captain, now, don't you? The deaths of his entire team, save yourself. Would you care to tell him how they died?"

"He's here?" Ianto asked, possibly too eagerly.

Saxon laughed. "Ah, now, that's what I like to see. You're anxious to see your boss. Maybe even to get back to work! But tell me, Ianto, before I take you to Captain Harkness, would you let me in on his secret?"

"Secret?" Ianto did his best to look puzzled.

"Yes, the secret he has." The mad look came back into Saxon's eyes. "How it is that that FREAK can't die!"

As quickly as the madness had come, it departed and Saxon looked inquiringly at Ianto. "Do you know what that's a result of? Is he perhaps also non-human?"

"Dunno," Ianto said, attempting to regain his previous air of nonchalance.

"Oh, surely you must know," Saxon said, encouragingly. "You of all the lovely people of Torchwood must hold the answer to Jack's mystery."

"Why is that?" Ianto asked, honestly not having a clue what the answer could possibly be.

"Because, dear boy, you are the first thing Jack thinks about when he comes back from dying. When I've let him sleep through the night, you're the first thought in his mind. And he sometimes SAYS YOUR NAME IN HIS SLEEP SO DON'T DENY YOU KNOW HIS SECRET!"

Ianto was startled, even though he'd come to expect Saxon's periodic bouts of madness. He moved as far away from the man as he could given the limitations of his bonds and the small cell. "D-do you mean the immortality thing?" he stammered. "I don't know how or why. I just know that he always comes back."

Saxon continued to stare fixedly into Ianto's face. After a few moments, Ianto decided he had to say something to keep the man from killing him with his mind. "Sir, how is it you know what Jack's first thoughts are? Are you telepathic?"

"Flattery, they always try flattery next," Saxon whispered, almost to himself. Then he resumed his friendly expression and smiled. "Why, yes, I am, Ianto. How keen your mind is that you noticed. Now, then, I think we need to update your wardrobe a bit, don't you? I know you favor those really stunning suits but I want to see you in something a little more dashing. I'm thinking a tuxedo. Red cummerbund? Over the top? Yes, over the top. We'll go with white." He turned to the guard and snapped his fingers. "See to it. And fix this boy's situation, won't you? He's in restraints, for pity's sake! How much damage can one little boy like him do? At least let him use the toilet properly." And with that Saxon rose and started to leave the cell. At the door, he turned. "Oh, and Ianto? Please, feel free to tell the Captain how the rest of the team came to pass away? It would do his heart so much good." He pointed to the camera.

Ianto looked at the camera and gulped.

Several cells down in the same corridor, Jack, chained to the wall and wearing nothing but a torn prison jumpsuit, watched the scene inside Ianto's cell silently. A single tear threatened to escape, and he blinked it back. So long as Ianto remained important to him, he would be safe from death at the Master's hands. But there was no reason to make it seem even worse than it was. No reason to let the Master know just how much power he could have over Jack by threatening Ianto.

Ianto couldn't tell how much time had passed but a while after Saxon had left his cell, a guard came in and removed the restraints, handed him a pile of clothing, and walked out again. Just as Ianto was considering stripping down and putting on the new clothes, the guard came back in, followed by others carrying a variety of things including a chemical toilet and a sink of the sort he'd often seen at outdoor events. It came with its own water supply and would probably provide lukewarm water in a slow stream. Still, he decided, anything was better than nothing.

The guard grunted, "I'd not drink that water. The Master says get cleaned up and dress for dinner. Oh, and the camera goes to the Master's private viewer so no funny stuff." And he left, the door slamming locked behind him.

Not knowing what else to do, Ianto stripped off everything but his underwear. He maneuvered himself so that his back was to the camera before utilizing the chemical toilet, then used the tepid water and small amount of liquid soap in the dispenser to clean himself up as best he could. He looked at the clothing he'd been given and couldn't stop the smirk. It was, indeed, a tuxedo. It was, he decided, a James Bond tuxedo. It brought to mind the first time he'd ever met Jack. He'd introduced himself as "Jones, Ianto Jones." He'd felt like a fool afterwards, but Jack had been charmed by it. He didn't admit to being charmed, of course, but he later said it was one of the things Jack remembered best about the first time he'd laid eyes on Ianto.

The amusement disappeared from his face when he remembered the camera. Had he been confident Jack was watching him, he'd have been glad to smile, but he doubted Saxon would have allowed Jack to watch anything he might enjoy. Sighing, he clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, then started dressing.

He had just tightened the traditional bow tie when the door to his cell opened again. Three guards stood there, one holding a set of restraints. Ianto scowled. "Do you really have to do this?"

The guard holding the restraints grabbed him by the arm and started to secure him. "I do my job. You do yours and shut up."

"Why do you do this?" Ianto asked. "Why do you believe in this Saxon?"

The other guard, a woman, hissed into Ianto's ear. "Have you seen what's happening out there? I'm going to stay on the side that's not getting the shit kicked out of it, you got me? So shut up and we'll all stay alive."

Ianto found himself unwillingly feeling sympathy for the woman.

He was marched down the corridor and out into the main meeting room of the Valiant. The conference table was incongruously set for a formal dinner. Ianto was pushed into a chair. His hand restraints were removed, but his legs remained locked together and a chain around his waist was secured to a bolt set into the wall behind the chair. The guards stepped away and he dropped his head into his hands.

Moments later, he heard the door open and when he looked up, he saw that Saxon had joined him. The Time Lord sat across from him, just far enough away that even had his long legs been unrestrained, he couldn't reach him to kick him, much less do any actual damage.

Saxon was smiling jovially. "Ah, Mr. Jones, how lovely of you to join me for dinner. I'm afraid it will have to be a light supper as I have important matters of state to attend to shortly. But a bowl of stew and a glass of wine are never unappreciated, eh?"

A uniformed guard came in with a tray. On it was a bowl, a large plate, and two wine glasses. The bowl and one of the glasses was placed in front of Ianto, while the plate and second glass went to Saxon. The bowl contained a stew Ianto suspected of having come from a military issue tin, and what was in the glass smelled like artificial fruit punch. Saxon had a steak, potato, and what appeared to be asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. The contents of his glass were most likely actual wine. Ianto realized he didn't care. All he'd had to eat since dinner on the night of the attack on the Mt. Kutang base came was the milkshake on board the airplane and he was pretty sure that had been hours ago. He looked around for some kind of utensils, but found none. He reached for the glass, but Saxon was quick to stop him.

"Oh, no, no, no, you must wait until I'm done. That's the protocol, silly boy. Now, whilst I eat, you can regale me with the tale of how Owen Harper died, yes? I want to hear about each one, of course, but one at a time, so that we may mourn them properly. Don't you agree?" He had addressed that question to a camera mounted in the corner above Ianto's head.

"Owen fell into a ravine when the cliff he was standing on collapsed," Ianto said, snapping his mouth shut afterwards.

"Oh, but surely there are details?" Saxon sounded disappointed. "Who did he bravely try to save as he fell to his doom? Whose eyes were the last to meet his? What were his last words? Come on, son, give the man some dignity in his death."

Reflecting that Owen would consider silence to be the most dignity anyone could give him under the present circumstances, Ianto started to embellish the story, sticking as close to the truth as he could without incurring the disappointment, which he suspected was a short distance away from wrath, of Saxon. The camera, he thought, must be feeding through to Jack, wherever Jack was at the moment, and he felt Jack, at least, deserved to hear the truth.

When he finished describing Owen's heroic albeit mostly fictional attempt to save the geneticist he'd been standing beside, Ianto glanced hopefully towards his food, which was most likely congealing into a cold mass. Saxon, catching sight of the glance, smiled and put his fork down on the table. "It must be difficult," he said, "and I'm sure your appetite is suffering because you brought such fresh and bitter memories up, but you must eat to keep up your strength. I know, I know, but you must. Here, I'll help." And he rose and approached Ianto. The guard closest to him apparently saw some kind of signal from Saxon, because he slipped behind Ianto and quickly and efficiently secured his arms behind his back. Saxon took a spoon from his own place setting, and began to feed Ianto the cold stew. Too tired and hungry to fight, Ianto let himself be treated this way, hoping that Jack was no longer watching.

Once all the stew had been spooned up, Saxon stepped away and grabbed a napkin. "Can't let you go out in public looking like a slob, can we?" he asked as he wiped Ianto's mouth and chin. He then threw the napkin onto his own plate, and walked to the door. "I wish I could stay, dear boy, I really do. But I have important things to do. I'm an important man, you know. You aren't my only friend. I'll let these nice people get you back to your quarters, then." He started to turn away, then seemed to consider something and turned back. "Good night, Ianto," he said. "Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning." And he left the room.

Ianto gaped after him, barely noticing when the guard released his arms from their binding. The guard jabbed him in the shoulder and, once he'd gotten Ianto's attention, pointed at the goblet. He took it and drank the contents, discovering that it was artificially flavored fruit drink but not caring; it was liquid and relatively cold and he didn't expect he'd get better for a while.

When he was done drinking, the guard helped him stand up and replaced the hand and arm restraints. He was marched back to his cell, and once inside the female guard unfastened the restraints. "You'll most likely be needing the toilet," she said snidely. However, as she removed the last restraint from his wrists, she slipped something into his hand.

He waited until the guards had left him, locking the door with a resounding clang. He turned away from the camera and, as he fumbled to open the fly in the tuxedo trousers, looked at the piece of paper the guard had given him. On it was the cryptic message, "JH 2 drs r, sees mstr in rm w/u p on ppr" which he finally worked out to mean "Jack Harkness 2 doors to the right, sees the Master in the room with you. Pee on paper." He quickly followed that last instruction, pleased to see the paper disintegrate quickly.

He refastened the trousers and washed his hands and face. The door opened as he was drying his hands on the jacket sleeves. A male guard handed him a drab grey sweat suit. "Fold the tux neatly, we'll collect it in the morning. The Master will be sending you something new tomorrow." And the guard left. Puzzled and uncomfortable, Ianto changed into the sweat suit, carefully folding the tuxedo and placing it on the chair before stretching out on the steel slab in an attempt to sleep. The light never dimmed, but he eventually got down on the floor below the slab, cushioned his head in his arms, and slept.

He couldn't tell how long he had slept, but he felt like he'd been beaten with steel rods. It was a struggle to get up from the floor, and he had to lean on the wall to remain upright while using the chemical toilet. He debated using the water from the sink, despite the guard's warning, to rinse out his mouth, but thought he might give it a little longer to see if something was provided for him. Saxon was certainly treating him oddly. It was possible that he'd be allowed a full bath and spa treatment at some point.

He retreated to the steel slab and sat on it, pulling in his legs so that he was partially hidden behind his knees. After a while he realized this was not going to help his aching body, so he stood up and started some stretching exercises, silently blessing Gwen for insisting they do such things during periods of inactivity in the Hub. Owen might have thought Gwen unreasonably meddlesome at the time but if he were here now, even he would be grateful to her for this. After stretching, he did some squats and push-ups, then ran in place for a few minutes. He was pleased to find that he hadn't lost most of his stamina, and the aches slowly faded to minor annoyances, and then were gone entirely.

He had returned to stretching when the door opened and two guards entered. One was carrying a replacement for the chemical toilet, which surprised Ianto. The other had a pile of clothing in his arms. That guard put the pile on the steel slab, retrieved the tuxedo outfit, and said, "clean up good, put on the new clothes, and be ready for an early dinner."

"Might I know what time it is?" Ianto asked.

"You might, but I think it'd be better if I told you," said the guard, moving so his back was to both camera and the other guard, and winking quickly. "It's nearly three in the afternoon. Dinner is scheduled for four." Then the first guard nudged him and he said, "There's a bottle of mouthwash in the middle of the clothes pile. The Master says you are to use it before and after dinner."

The two guards left and Ianto examined the pile of clothing. To his amusement, it was a schoolboy uniform, complete with school crest and distinctive tie. In addition to the mouthwash there was deodorant and, incongruously, aftershave lotion. No razor, of course. He sighed, washed as best he could and put on the lotion and the outfit. He was amazed how well it fit. Apparently Saxon had found superhuman tailors. The son of a tailor himself, Ianto found himself impressed against his will.

After what he assumed was almost an hour, the door opened and the three guards appeared. He was once again confined in strong restraints and walked down the corridor. Noting that they had turned to the right upon exiting his cell, he watched for the second door. It was one with no window.

Dinner was served in a different conference room, this one smaller and with a television monitor set into the wall. Ianto was pushed into a chair and again chained to the wall. A few moments later, Saxon came in, smiling. "Oh, Mr. Jones, you do look so delightful in that outfit. I'm so pleased. Now, I know you're anxious to regale me with another tale of horror but first, I think it's time for you to see an old friend." He waved a hand towards the television and one of the guards handed him a remote control. When the television came on, it was to a scene that made Ianto start despite his restraints.

It was a room with chains coming from the ceiling. Hanging from the chains, which were bound around his chest and under his arms, was Jack. His hands were bound to his sides and he was naked. He was also, from the look of things, very dead.

Ianto knew this wouldn't last. He had seen Jack come back to life twice and knew it would always happen. He also knew the manner of death affected how long the cycle took. And he couldn't tell what had killed Jack this time, or when, so he couldn't judge whether he would see Jack take that first, painful breath. He just stared.

"Oh, I AM sorry," Saxon said. "I ought to have warned you; so rude of me. Captain Harkness will be joining us shortly. I've been experimenting, trying to find out what factors affect how long he stays dead, what things make his return to life more or less painful. It's quite a fascinating study. I may publish a paper someday."

At that moment, the loud wheeze of Jack's first breath filled the speakers set in the walls, and on the screen they could see him coming back to life. He writhed for a few seconds until he returned to full consciousness and stared at something directly in front of him. His jaw tightened, and in a mocking tone he said, "Seriously? A schoolboy? That's a fetish even I have no time for anymore!"

Saxon glared disapprovingly at the screen. "Is that how you greet a long-lost friend? By making fun of his host? I'd have thought in your hundreds of years you'd have learned some manners, Captain."

Jack chuckled, a feat Ianto could see was costing him some energy. He wasn't fully recovered from his most recent death, but it was clear he was posing for Saxon.

"What I want to hear from him," Jack said, "is what happened to Toshiko and Gwen. And Owen. And who’s minding the pterodactyl" 

Ianto suppressed a smirk and looked at Saxon, waiting for the signal to start another tale of death and fantasy heroism.

But Saxon was shaking his head. "No, no, not before dinner," he said, and the meal was brought in. Again, Saxon had a plate with freshly prepared food and the bowl put before Ianto was soup. This time, instead of juice, however, the wine glass he was given contained milk. At least he hoped it was milk. This time he sat stone-still as Saxon ate what appeared to be chicken cordon bleu and asparagus over saffron rice, sipping an amber beverage that could have been brandy or possibly even flat cream soda, for all Ianto could tell.

When Saxon finished his meal, Ianto still waited, expecting the ritual of Saxon feeding him would be repeated. Instead, the madman gestured for a guard who brought a plastic spoon. "Eat, lad," he said. "Don't want you losing any of that lovely muscle tone, do we?"

With a glance at Jack on the screen, Ianto quickly gulped down the soup, which was remarkably still somewhat warm. When he gave no indication of wanting to drink from his glass, Saxon clucked at him. "Milk is so good for growing bones, though. Drink it, son!" Not wanting to know what would happen if he challenged the man's authority any further, Ianto drank.

Jack was silent through all of this, his eyes on Saxon rather than on Ianto. When the dishes were removed, Saxon turned to stare back at him. "Oh, you wonderful freak!" he breathed. "What shall I do with you tomorrow? I'd ask my plaything here to kill you for me but I've got the idea he'll refuse, even to the point of dying himself. Do you think that's what he'd do, Captain Freak?"

"No clue, asshole," Jack replied. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd hold off on that until he's told me what happened to the rest of my team."

Matching Jack's slightly belligerent tone, Ianto said, "Owen fell off a cliff. Is that enough for you, Captain?"

"Oh, Ianto, so rude to your employer! I had expected better of you. Besides, Captain Harkness already knows all about what befell poor Doctor Harper, doesn't he?" Saxon winked at Ianto, smiling merrily.

"What about the girls?" Jack snapped. "Did they die uselessly trying to save some poor jackass, too?"

"I did what I could for Gwen." Ianto hoped Jack would understand what he was implying. But if he did, he gave no indication.

"Tosh, though?" Jack snapped.

"She fell off a cliff."

Saxon clucked again. "Just one story at a time, son, and all the details if you don't mind."

Ianto forced himself to look at Jack's face. For a fleeting second, he saw something other than anger and challenge in his eyes. For that one second, he and Jack shared minds and souls. And Ianto knew what to do. He hoped Saxon hadn't caught the intensity of emotion in that one moment, and ploughed on with the fantasy tale of Toshiko's death, complete with screams and cries and, for good measure, rending of bone and flesh.

Jack's face revealed no emotion but Saxon was wide-eyed, sopping up the story as if it were nourishment. When Ianto finished, Saxon applauded.

"Bravo, my dear, it IS true that the Welsh have a way with words. Lovely, lovely, a credit to your fallen team mate. Your Captain must be so proud of you."

"I'd be prouder if he were telling me a tale of killing you," Jack said, sounding exasperated.

"Oh, now, look, Captain, you’ve worn poor Ianto out and now he'll have to go have a lie down to recover." Saxon signaled for the guards who manhandled Ianto back into restraints and marched him out of the room. As the door closed, he heard Saxon say to Jack, "Just for that your next death will be slow. Impaling, perhaps? That was fun last time, wasn't it?

As Ianto was almost out the door, Saxon said, “One moment, though. I have something to say to my guest”. Ianto turned wary eyes on Saxon, who said, "Good night, Ianto. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

Back at his cell, Ianto was given back the sweat suit, the strange uniform was taken away, and the toiletries were taken with them. This time, however, one of the guards handed him a bottle of water. No notes or message appeared but the water was welcome. Eventually, Ianto lowered himself to the floor and slept.

Nothing happened for several days. At what seemed to be the same time every day, a guard came in and dropped a bowl of soup or stew and a plastic spoon on the floor for him, and later that day his bottle of water was replaced with a new one. After three such meals, a guard came in, secured him in restraints, and shaved his face. The humiliation was considerable, especially since he was fairly sure Saxon was watching as it happened. But he had never liked the feel of whiskers and he was glad to be clean-shaven again.

The day after his face was shaved, he was given another peculiar change of clothing. This time it turned out to be a safari outfit. There was no pith helmet but the khaki beige shorts and shirt, the heavy woolen socks and boots that looked substantial (but turned out to be trainers dolled up to look like safari boots) were all of a kind. He had no idea what kind of foolishness this outfit presaged but it promised to be a relief from the boredom that had become his life.

The guards who got him were unfamiliar to him. Secured in the usual restraints and this time lead by a chain that was run around both his legs than up the back to circle his waist, he was taken to a large room that had no table, but instead had a removable screen in place of one wall. The guards put him up against a wall, securing the waist chain to a bolt conveniently located there.

Saxon was in a few moments later. "Ah, lovely, so you've decided to join me!" he chirped. "I suppose you're wondering what the occasion is, yes? Well, since we are now to hear the tale of the tragic demise of Vice Commander Gwen Cooper of Torchwood Three, it seemed appropriate that you tell it with proper atmosphere."

Ianto had resigned himself to the confusion that regularly accompanied hearing anything Saxon said, so he was able to keep his face bland in the face of this pronouncement.

Saxon waved his hand in the direction of the screen wall and two of the guards pushed it to one side. There, strapped to a structure that Ianto thought looked familiar but had no name for, was Jack, spread eagled against the horizontal bars of the structure, a gag in his mouth, and a pair of orange sweat pants on his legs but bare at both chest and feet. He was alive, and conscious, and when he caught sight of Ianto he rolled his eyes. Ianto had to bite back the smirk.

"Now, this is a much better setting for this story, is it not?" Saxon asked, rubbing his hands together. "Go ahead, Mr. Jones, tell the great Captain what happened to his second in command."

Ianto had been prepared for this story. He'd had time to work out all the details so that the story would convince any listener, even the most paranoid, which surely described Saxon. He just hoped he could put enough into it to convey to Jack that he was telling a fantasy, that Gwen was really alive.

He took a deep breath and began. “She almost threw herself over the edge with Owen. When she saw the avalanche coming, and realized that Owen was in the path of it, she screamed and tried to run to him. I held her back, though. I know she loved him, but dying for him would have done him no good and would only have been a waste of her life."

Jack nodded, and from the look in his eyes, Ianto could tell that he recognized the lie about Gwen's love for Owen. She did love Owen, of course. But her heart belonged to Rhys, something Jack had found out early on when he'd tried flirting with her himself. Everyone in Torchwood knew that Gwen's affair with Owen had been a way for her to understand the life adjustments the Torchwood Institute required of its employees. So Jack now seemed to have the idea, that Ianto was going to couch the truth in terms of lies.

Ianto plowed on. "I dragged her up a trail, more of a crack in the mountain, on the side away from the path of the avalanche. She fought me at first, but finally just followed. We reached a widening in the trail, and I reached to take her arm again, just to offer support. You know how difficult it is for Gwen to handle that level of adversity."

Again, Jack nodded. Gwen, unable to handle adversity? She not only handled it, she beat it up. Jack was following the story exactly as Ianto had intended.

"She started to cry, and then to scream. She pushed me away, punched me in the jaw, threatened to ... emasculate me."

Jack seemed to smile through the gag. That was just enough like Gwen, but sufficiently different that he could picture the actual scene with something nearing glee.

Ianto continued. "I fell into a dip in the terrain, and Gwen marched off in that way she has, declaring that she was going back to set things right. At first I thought she meant to go back and fight, but she threw away her gun and started to strip off her clothes. I thought she'd gone completely insane. I got up and gathered up her clothes, following her. When I saw that she planned to go back into that massacre I grabbed at her and pulled her back. She kicked me and in doing so lost her balance. Remember, by then she was wearing nothing but her boots and her underwear. She fell into a snow wall and it collapsed on her. I dug her out and she was still alive by the time I got to her. But she was raving. She ran up the hill, pulling off her underwear as she ran. Mind you, it was well below freezing, it was still nighttime. I could see her for a time silhouetted against the snow. But eventually I lost sight of her. I found a sheltered place to spend the rest of the night and at first light I set out to find her. It took me a while, I don't know how long. But I found her face down in the snow. I was too late. I couldn't tell what had killed her. It could have been exposure. She might have fallen and broken her neck. I felt for a pulse and couldn't find one, and she was cold, rock solid frozen. I tried to find a way to bury her but it was hopeless. I found some of her clothing, put it on her as best I could. And then, for some reason, I felt she would have wanted her body to retain some semblance of dignity. She would not have wanted to be found in the condition I found her in. So I rolled her body off the edge of the cliff. It wasn't much of a cliff. Her body bounced a few times." Ianto shuddered for effect. He was starting to enjoy telling this story too much. If he ever saw Gwen again, he would owe her a rather big apology.

A quick glance at Saxon showed Ianto that his captor was enthralled, the level of his excitement showing on his face as nearly a sexual frenzy. Looking back at Jack, he saw him shake his head almost imperceptibly. Time to ramp it down, Ianto decided.

"Once her body had rolled out of sight, I stood and thought for a while, realized I had no choice. I was going to die if I couldn't find someplace warm and where I could get food. I was hoping the attack was over, maybe I could get down to the Sherpa village. On my way back I spotted one of the Sherpas, but he saw me and ran away. I think those people will be happy if they never see westerners again. So I decided to surrender and hope for the best."

Saxon's head snapped around and he glared at Ianto. "This was not supposed to be about you, Mr. Jones," he said crossly. "If I had wanted to hear about you, I'd have asked about you. Did I ask about you? No, I asked about Vice Commander Cooper. I am very disappointed in you. I was going to let you shoot Captain Harkness right between the eyes. But, no, as punishment, there will be no lunch and no playing with the Freak. Guards, take this self-centered egomaniac back to his room where he can sit and meditate on what it means to think of others!"

The guards promptly took control of Ianto, leading him from the room. A final look towards Jack showed him that his story had done its job. Jack had a pretty good idea where Gwen had gone. He knew that someone was saved from Torchwood, from the Torchwood Institute as Jack Harkness had built it. And Ianto had noticed something else. By angering Saxon he had changed something in the game. They were no longer playing some weird variation on “The Princess Bride.”

Now that all of the remaining Torchwood officers were accounted for in their deaths, Saxon had somewhat less interest in Ianto, and days, even weeks by Ianto’s reckoning, would go by without him being sent a strange outfit so that he could join Saxon for a meal while presumably, Jack watched. The sessions always ended with Saxon saying, "Good night, Ianto, Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning." The outfits were no less bizarre, however. There was the space suit, the cowboy outfit, the sheik's robes, the WWI dough-boy outfit, the Victorian era Naval uniform, and countless others. And then one day there was the leather outfit.

It felt as though more than a month had gone by since his last encounter with Saxon when his two usual guards, with whom he had become fairly friendly, appeared with toiletries and a bizarre new outfit for Ianto. It consisted of tight leather trousers with chrome studs across the front and down the sides, a glittery fishnet t-shirt, and a black leather and chrome vest. He was barefoot, for some reason, and the cap he was half expecting to see did not appear, but he felt he was nonetheless dressed like a lead-off act in a gay stereotype review.

As the guards were half carrying him down the corridor, he said dryly, “I can’t wait for the pink Nazi uniform to show up.” The female guard was unable to stop herself from giggling. “Don’t say that again,” she warned. “He’ll send someone to find one for you!”

There was a delay at the door to the room they were taking him to. A guard stuck his head out and said, “Hold off for a few, the Master has some decorating plans still to deal with.” He grimaced and closed the door again. While they waited, the guards conversed quietly about inconsequentials, like what they had eaten for breakfast in the mess hall and whether some officer was having trouble with an old injury. In the midst of all this minor gossip, they slipped in tidbits about the outside world for Ianto’s benefit. It had been nearly a year since he'd been taken to the Valiant, and he was beginning to understand that he was actually quite fortunate to be alive at all; most people who were viewed as even the most remote threat were usually vaporized by the spheres called Toclafane. When Ianto commented that Toclafane sounded like a brand of gourmet chocolate, both guards laughed. The female guard leaned in a little closer and whispered, “Rumor is there’s soon to be a new prisoner, someone who got really close to destroying the Toclafane. She’ll likely end up in the cell next to you. On the wall opposite the bed.” Then she leaned back and said, “We need to get serious. They must be ready by now.”

As if on cue, the door to the room opened and the guard inside said, “The Master says we’re to take Jones off your hands for now. We’ll call when he’s to go back.” And he grabbed Ianto by his bound arms and hauled him into the room.

It was a bedroom. Well, it was a room made up to look more or less like a bedroom. There was a bed in it. There was also a conference table pushed against one wall, as well as a number of chairs stacked up along another wall. On the table there were stacks of papers and a bag. In front of the conference table, there was a comfortably stuffed armchair. Saxon was sitting in the chair with a telephone held to his ear. Jack was chained to the bed. Ianto was fairly sure that, under different circumstances, Jack would have found the situation pleasant, and approached it with enthusiasm. Under these circumstances, however, he was clearly uninterested in the sexual potential of his position.

Uneasy and a little frightened, Ianto stood looking between Saxon and Jack. The guard removed the restraints from his arms and legs, but attached the waist chain to a bolt set into the wall behind the bed. It was a safe bet, he mused, that the length of the chain would prevent him from reaching where Saxon sat. This was pretty well confirmed when the guard left the room. He folded his arms protectively over his chest, staring at a wall as he waited for whatever sick, twisted instructions Saxon might give him.

He had to wait a while. Saxon was chatting with someone via telephone, and from the side of the conversation Ianto could hear, he got the impression the person on the other end of the line had delivered a report that Saxon was enthusiastic about.

”Oh, really? Indeed! We shall have such fun, shan’t we, once we have her to play with. Oh, do ring me once she’s someplace I can hem her in. This is so wonderful. I haven’t had so much fun in months, maybe in years.” He hung up the phone, and mused to himself, “In lifetimes, in fact.”

He clapped his hands together, and turned to Ianto. “Ah, the lovely little Ianto Jones! How charming you look. I thought Captain Harkness would enjoy seeing you dressed for his amusement for once, rather than for your own.”

Jack rolled his eyes as Ianto fought the urge to do the same. “Oh, come on, Master, you can read my mind, can’t you? Do you REALLY think I like this look on him? I hired him for the suits, for shit’s sake! If you want a kinky scene with the two of us at least have the decency to dress him in Armani, or at least Cardin!”

Saxon clucked, almost indulgently. “Jack, you’re such an ingrate! Here I give you the man of your dreams, as much as on a platter, and all you do is whine that you don’t like his clothes. Shallow, ungrateful, and rude, that’s what you are. Ianto, I think we shall have to teach him a lesson, shall we?”

”Is he going to ask me to whip you or something?” Ianto whispered. “Because I seriously doubt I could do that.”

Through unmoving lips, Jack hissed, “You’ll do whatever he tells you do to in order to survive.”

”But…”

”No, no buts, Ianto, your survival is more important than my temporary discomfort.”

For a brief moment, it seemed to Ianto that the other man in the room, Saxon aka the Master, had ceased to exist. A throat clearing behind him reminded him of his forgetfulness.

”Oh, I should think whipping would be unnecessary,” Saxon said. “I think we can come up with something more … colorful … for the Captain.”

Before he could give voice to his ideas, however, Saxon was interrupted by the intercom. “We’ve found her in London,” the voice announced. “Do you want to come with us now or shall we take her for you?”

Ianto saw that Saxon was turning away from him to face the speaker, glee on his face. He took a chance and turned to Jack, mouthing, “Gwen?”

Jack shook his head slightly, soundlessly replying, “Someone else.”

Ianto responded with a raised eyebrow, but Saxon interrupted with an announcement. “I can’t believe my luck!” he crowed. “I can give you a threesome, Jack!”

”Not interested,” Jack growled.

”That’s a real shame,” Saxon sighed. He reached into a bag on the table and pulled out a small pistol. Shrugging, he aimed in Ianto’s general direction and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Ianto’s pelvis. A metal stud in the peculiar outfit deflected it, but the pain of the initial hit dropped him to the ground, screaming. Jack echoed his screams. Saxon left the room with an additional shrug, saying to the guards, “Feel free to dispose of the body any way you like.”

Jack was still screaming and straining against the bonds that held him to the bed when his usual two guards rushed in and knelt beside Ianto. The female guard’s eyes widened as she realized there was a strong pulse.

”He’s alive,” she said softly. “In fact, I’m not sure he’s even been hit.”

Gasping, Ianto choked out, “Perhaps not but it hurts like hell.” Jack stopped struggling, and he turned his head to stare as Ianto, with the guards’ help, staggered to his feet.

”Come on, mate, we’ll get you someplace safer,” the male guard whispered.

”Wait,” Jack said. “I want to be sure he’s okay. Ianto, can you walk?”

He was limping, but Ianto managed to get over to Jack, who said, “Ianto, get out. We need you to live.”

”You have Gwen out there, though. Gwen made it,” Ianto replied, barely breathing the words. “I don’t know how far she’s gotten but she’s still alive. I saved her for you.”

Jack nodded, then whispered, “I know. And that's important. But you're important. I'll be able to deal here if I know you're safe. Kiss me quick, then run off.”

Ianto leaned forward and kissed Jack full on the lips. For a moment, the world around them ceased to exist. It was just lips and tongues and eyes and love. Peace reigned in their hearts for the time their lips were combined. Jack breathed into Ianto's mouth, saying, "I do love you, Ianto Jones. Always will. So you need to be alive."

Then the kiss was over, and the guards were explaining to Ianto how they would carry him to make him appear to be dying. They took him from the room with his eyes closed except for a tiny slit to allow him to see Jack until the door closed. Jack was staring after him, his eyes glistening.

The guards took Ianto to a small room filled with uniforms of various descriptions. They quickly stripped the leather and chrome outfit from him, replacing it with a uniform similar to their own. They pushed him into a queue with others in the same uniforms, she in front and he behind, and they moved forward into a ship that was waiting at one of the ports. He followed the lead of his rescuers, and no one gave him a second glance. The ship lifted off and headed towards Earth. Upon landing, the majority of the personnel turned to the right and started running towards a burned out residential neighborhood. A small contingent, including Ianto and his two guards, turned instead to the left and appeared to be fanning out. At first it looked like they were backup for the initial group but it was soon obvious that something else was going on. Ianto was dragged into an alley, where he and the guards waited as Ianto strained to remain silent despite the urge to ask what was going on.

After a few minutes they were joined by two civilians. They looked Ianto over and nodded. “We’ll take him from here,” they said. To Ianto they addressed just one question. “You can shoot, right?” When he simply nodded, they beckoned for him to follow them farther into the alley and into a doorway down a set of steps. Once inside, he found himself with a small group of people gathered around a candle.

From outside they could hear the sound of shouting and of gunfire. One of the people who had been in the room turned to Ianto. “You’re the other Torchwood, aren’t you?” Ianto nodded mute acknowledgement. The speaker continued, “That out there. Odd as it may seem, it sounds like the first real chance for the resistance. Tell me, Torchwood, have you heard of The Doctor?”


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned I had a built-in reset point, right? Owen and Tosh are dead, victims of ~~my inability write four whole stories of survival~~ tragic and horrible circumstances. Gwen has traveled the world rousing the rabble and now she's come home, and was last seen asleep in Rhys' arms in a lighthouse. Ianto walked right into the lion's den, as it were, allowing himself to be captured by the Master and his Toclafane, so that he could bridge the gap between Jack and the world outside, and he ended up rescued and placed with a resistance group in London. Jack got a nice long kiss out of the deal and last we saw on the _Valiant_ , someone (whom we all know to be Martha) has been captured and it's going to have a major impact on the story. So now, time needs to be set right. Here's what happened once the paradox was resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to always begin the disclaimer by listing everything I don't own but that list got so long I now list what I do own. The computer I'm typing on.

DAY FORTY ONE  
Again

Rhys awoke with a start, the sound of tinny music from the television having wound its way into a peculiar dream he was having. He turned to check that Gwen was there beside him. Her black hair, snarled and tousled, just barely showed from where she had snuggled into his side, her face turned in towards the back of the sofa. He turned back to the screen, and saw the credits from a particularly corny old horror movie rolling by. He couldn't remember them watching any of it, and looked about to find if the remote control had fallen someplace. Reluctant to disturb his sleeping fiance, he sighed when he spotted the remote control on the floor by his feet. Doubtless he had stepped on it while he dozed, whatever they had been watching forgotten.

Gwen stirred and turned so that she faced away from the sofa. He tugged gently on an unruly lock of her hair and said, "Hey, sleepyhead, why don't we relocate to someplace more comfortable?"

She sat up slowly, wakefulness gradually replacing what appeared to have been a particularly hard sleep. "What happened?" she croaked.

Before he could reply that they had fallen asleep in front of whatever movie they had been watching, Gwen's mobile phone rang. She reached forward to pick it up off the living room table and checked the caller ID. Frowning, she held it to her ear and said, "Hello, Gwen Cooper speaking."

The caller was General Francis Bellingham, of UNIT. "Vice Commander Cooper, I'm sorry to have disturbed you at home, but I wanted to be sure I caught you in time. The mission to Nepal has been cancelled and I wanted to be sure your team didn't get too far into planning and packing."

"Um ... thank you for letting me know so quickly," she said hesitantly. "May I ask what changed, why the cancellation?"

Bellingham cleared his throat, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "Ms. Cooper, have you seen the news yet this evening?"

Gwen looked towards the clock on the desk beside her computer. It was hardly evening; it was close to midnight. The last time she remembered looking at the clock it had been 8 PM. "Uh, no, General, we've been ... we've been busy."

She could almost hear him chuckle. "Well, then, I suggest you find the news. It's been a curious day, and an even more curious evening."

Gwen snatched the remote control from Rhys and flipped channels to find the news. There, right there on her telly, she saw Prime Minister, as of just today, Harold Saxon, meeting with the American President on the tarmac at Heathrow. And she saw him reach into his coat, pull out a gun, and shoot the American. Immediately thereafter, a horrified looking Lucy Saxon grabbed the gun from her husband and shot him, screaming, "No more, Harry. No more! Never again! Never! Never!"

Security agents from both countries surrounded the bodies and Mrs. Saxon. Just as the picture cut away to show the news desk, Rhys made a sound and pointed at the screen. "Oi, Gwen, isn't that bloke in the back there your boss?"

She looked where he was pointing but the picture had already changed. She shrugged. "Could be a lot of blokes look like Jack," she said, but she was aware she was convincing neither herself nor Rhys.

*****

Across Cardiff, in a small but painstakingly neat flat, Ianto Jones found himself jerked awake where he had dozed off on his sofa in front of the television. The DVD was finished and the menu music kept cycling, annoying him. Then he realized the DVD was not the one he remembered putting into his player earlier that evening. He was sure he had been watching "National Treasure" and snorting at the bumbling theft and research. Yet the menu was from "The Day The Earth Stood Still," an old classic that Jack had brought with him, along with a bottle of wine and a shoulder to lean on, shortly after the team had faced the cannibals in the Breton Beacons. In that encounter, Ianto had been beaten to within a hair's breadth of his life as he was prepared to be slaughtered, butchered, and eaten. He had thought the movie an unusual choice at the time, but the hope at its core had calmed him some (the wine hadn't hurt the process, either) and he'd grown fond of it. But he was sure he hadn't put it into the player that evening.

His telephone rang, and he quickly switched his television off and grabbed the receiver. It was just past midnight.

"Hello," he said, forcing himself to alertness.

"Hi, Ianto, sorry to wake you." It was Gwen.

"I needed waking; if I had stayed here I'd have a sore back in the morning." He yawned and ran a hand through his hair. "What's wrong?"

"Have you been watching the news?" Gwen asked.

"No, I was watching a movie and fell asleep," he replied as he clicked the set back on and flipped to the news.

"Well, turn the news on. We're not going to Nepal and you need to see why."

"What's going on, then?" he asked. The news was reporting on the assassination of the President of the United States, an event that surely would have affected international plans on a large scale, but he wasn't sure why he needed to see the news for himself instead of hearing it from Gwen.

Then the picture switched to the footage of Saxon shooting the President before being shot with his own gun by his own wife. Ianto held the phone away from his mouth for a moment, just in case he shouted too loudly. "What the bloody HELL?" he exploded.

"Exactly," Gwen said. "And Rhys says he sees Jack on the scene. I don't see him there, do you?"

Ianto stared intently at the screen. "I see a short, skinny bloke in a trench-coat standing off to one side. He's kind of ... I was going to say shimmering but now he's gone. There were some people around him but I can't really see them. Someone has that same kind of perception filter we have on the lift. So, yeah, maybe Jack's there, but I don't see him." He continued staring, but kept his tone moderate. He had no doubt Gwen knew him well enough to understand that he was going to be up all night watching that scene over and over trying to spot Jack, but he didn't want to drag her into his emotional life.

"I wonder what they'll find out about Saxon when all the dust settles," Gwen mused. "I did get the feeling that wife of his was abused; she had the look, you know, the kind that I got to see too much when I worked that department. But Saxon just seemed ... odd. I need to call Owen and Tosh. Call me if you spot Jack, all right, Ianto?"

He grunted agreement and disconnected. Squinting at the screen, he could just about make out the shimmery effect he associated with a perception filter. The fellow in the trench-coat was no longer visible. As he watched, the shimmery effect faded and disappeared entirely. He wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing, inspired by Gwen's telling him what Rhys claimed to have seen. Still, he watched, until the sun started to come in his window, reminding him that he needed to get ready for work.

*****

Owen had decided a half hour earlier that the club he was in was a waste of his time. The women were attractive, true, and some even acted willing. But he wasn't in the mood, and he blamed the loud music and slight scent of stale sweat and staler beer that hung over the room. He was tense about the mission he and the rest of Torchwood Three was being sent on. He didn't mind seeing any of the team in the field; even Ianto, new as he was to field work, had been well trained by Torchwood London and, subsequently, by Jack and the rest of the team in Cardiff. What didn't sit well with him was the idea of leaving no one behind to keep an eye on the Cardiff Rift. The UNIT team were decent, competent, even pleasant blokes. But they didn't have Rift experience. It was completely insane to send all of the team on an exploratory mission, especially one that was already heavy with UNIT and international scientific personnel.

More disturbing than just that was the girl he had been talking to just moments before. Her name was Ellen Jeransky. Her sister, Sarah Jeransky, was something or other on the Queen's staff. (Owen recognized the name as the woman who had called Gwen, speaking on behalf of the Queen, requiring Torchwood's assistance on this very mission.) Ellen said her sister had suddenly gone on an extended leave of absence to recover from a nervous breakdown. It was one of those coincidences that made Owen shiver slightly.

He felt his mobile phone vibrate in his pocket and with a relieved sigh he went out onto the street to answer. The caller ID said it was Gwen, which he had half suspected. "Yes, dear?" he said, his tone as sarcastic as his mood would allow.

"Where are you? Is there a TV nearby? Have you heard the news?"

Gwen didn't usually sound so nervous. He dropped the sarcasm. "No, I'm on the street in front of a club. I do have something to tell you, though. It's about the Queen's Torchwood liaison."

"Bugger liaisons," Gwen snapped. "Turn on a radio, look at the news, something. Find a telly somewhere. I'm serious, Owen."

He walked into a late night coffee shop where he could hear the sounds of a news show under the soft murmur of voices. He looked up and saw the scene that had been replayed for the past hour. He saw Saxon, the new Prime Minister, shoot the American President, and then Lucy Saxon shoot her husband. "Shit!" he breathed.

"That would seem to be the word of the hour," Gwen said. Owen had almost forgotten the mobile phone pressed to his ear. "The Himalayan trip is canceled, needless to say. But watch next time they show the scene, will you, and see if you see Jack in the crowd. Rhys swears he saw Jack, and Ianto says he saw what looked like a perception filter in use."

Owen watched but after seeing it two more times he could see nothing. "Maybe they're showing a different angle now," he suggested, but Gwen assured him it was the same scene she and Rhys had been watching all night. He decided the news about Sarah Jeransky was now unimportant, and he headed for his car and home. At least, he mused, he could stay in bed and warm now, not get up and face a flight to some distant mountain top in the morning. For a moment he was unable to find his car, but then he saw it, parked a half block away from where he had been looking. He shook his head, telling himself not be be so jumpy, and got in, turned on the engine, and headed home.

 

*****

When she phoned Toshiko, Gwen finally woke someone who was in bed. She had been dreaming, Tosh mumbled as she struggled to open her eyes, about an ice storm and falling. It was probably because she was getting mentally prepared for the upcoming trek into the Himalayas.

She obediently grabbed for and flicked her remote control when Gwen told her to. And she, too, saw the same scene of death and confusion. "But I don't see anything that could be a perception filter," she said. "I think Ianto needed to rub his eyes some. As for seeing Jack, only Rhys saw him and he's only ever seen Jack from the distance. It could have been anything he saw that made him think it was Jack. That coat is distinctive, but a tall woman in a flowing evening dress with a long, fancy coat could give the same kind of impression in just a brief glance. That man Ianto says he saw could just be one of the security people crossing his line of vision for a moment when Ianto's eyes watered for a moment. No, I'm sorry to say, this is a scene of pure insanity, indeed, but it is not a scene of Torchwood insanity."

Relieved, Gwen hung up and crawled into bed beside Rhys, fully intending to sleep in the following day.

Toshiko was now fully awake, and she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa. She carried it back to bed, but stopped at the doorway to her bedroom. There was already a cup sitting on her nightstand. She didn't remember drinking anything in bed before going to sleep. She picked up the empty cup and sniffed. It had been jasmine tea. She was sure she hadn't made herself tea that night. She shrugged, deciding she had forgotten to remove the cup from the night before. The excitement and nervous energy of packing for the trek that was now canceled had more than likely interfered with her usual neatness. She moved the empty cup aside, placed the cup of cocoa beside it, and climbed back into bed to sip her hot drink and read a few more pages of the scientific journal that she had planned to use for entertainment on the flight to India.

*****

Late the following morning, when Owen finally stumbled in, the last to get to the Hub, Gwen called a meeting.

"I think," she began, "that it's fairly obvious that something more than just a little strange has occurred. Whether it is simply that our new Prime Minister turned out to be a megalomaniacal assassin, or if it's related to strange things in the background that some of us saw or think we saw, is probably going to remain a mystery. What we do know, however, is that no one is planning a hostile takeover of Torchwood, and our mission and team remain intact."

"Other than Jack," Ianto said softly.

She nodded. "Yes, other than Jack." She smiled sympathetically. They all missed Jack but Ianto missed him more than the others did, and for reasons Gwen was beginning to comprehend. "And whether he was or was not connected to the event, we will eventually have to do something about his disappearance. But for now, I think we just keep doing what we've been doing. Agreed?"

Three heads nodded. This was immediately followed by a beeping sound from one of the computers at Tosh's desk.

"Rift alarm," Tosh said, even though she knew they all recognized the sound. She raced towards her desk and started typing, her fingers performing a familiar and well-loved dance.

She was about to announce the location when Gwen's phone rang. She answered and talked briefly to someone, then nodded and hung up. "We're getting reports of something that looks like a blow-fish on two legs near Victoria Park. Just stole a sports car. And then they lost track of it. How the hell do you lose track of a six foot tall blow-fish in a stolen sports car?" She shook her head. "At any rate, we need to track it down and get it under control. Tosh, can you get a fix?"

"Not just yet," Tosh said, sounding preoccupied. "As soon as local police start routing data to me I'll have a better idea."

"I'll just get us more coffee, then," Ianto offered. "This could take a while."

Gwen smiled brightly at him. "Thanks so much, Ianto," she said. "I think we could really use a nice, normal day chasing aliens, don't you? A day fishing, as it were."

Ianto rolled his eyes, reflecting that it was one of his favorite facial expressions, as he headed towards the kitchen. Owen went into the autopsy bay muttering something about "fish autopsies." Gwen sighed. All was right with their world again.


End file.
